


Hold On Forever

by datajana



Category: 3 Blind Saints (2011), Jericho (US 2006)
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Amnesia, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blood and Injury, Blow Jobs, Car Accidents, Coming Untouched, Condoms, Dirty Talk, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fingerfucking, Flashbacks, Fluff, Frottage, Lube, M/M, Marathon Sex, Medical Jargon, Nightmares, Oral Sex, RSJ Fandom, Rich/Rich ship, Romance, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 08:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datajana/pseuds/datajana
Summary: An accident tragically changes Sam and Bill's life.It will take trust and patience for them to recover from the aftermath.But will it truly be enough when one has no memory of the other?A "Dickmas" fic for the wonderfulWarlockWriter!
Relationships: Bill Koehler/Sam (3 Blind Saints)
Comments: 88
Kudos: 14
Collections: Dickmas in July 2020, Speight Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WarlockWriter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WarlockWriter/gifts).



> Thanks to [Shaylybaby2032](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaylybaby2032/pseuds/Shaylybaby2032) and [Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness/pseuds/Masterpiece_of_turkey_cleverness) for their input and beta reading.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic covers the "Amnesia" and "Trauma Recovery" squares on my Speight Bingo card, as well.

Someone placed their fingers on his face and gently pried his eyes open. A light was flashed back and forth, and he groaned at the brightness before turning his head away.

“Sam?” a voice said urgently.

Sam blinked rapidly, the bright light having left dark spots in his vision. “What?” Where was he?

A man in what appeared to be a white doctor’s coat touched his left shoulder. “Mr. Dobbs,” he began. “You’re at St. Joseph’s Hospital. You were in an accident. My name is Doctor Griffin and—”

“Where?” Sam was having trouble putting everything together. His head hurt. A lot. Why did it hurt so much? He went to raise his right hand, but stopped when he noticed that it was being held by someone.

“Sam?” the voice from earlier said once more.

He turned to see a man with soft tawny eyes holding his hand. His face was full of worry, and Sam could see that the man had a wrist brace on his right hand. “Umm…” Sam said awkwardly.

The man frowned. “What is it, Sam?”

Doctor Griffin spoke up. ”Mr. Dobbs, do you understand what we’re saying to you? Are you aware of where you are?”

Sam carefully removed his hand from the man’s grasp, feeling a little bad for the hurt look that crossed his face. But… “I was in an accident?” he asked.

“Yes,” the doctor replied, nodding in apparent relief.

“And there were...others?” he said, motioning to the man’s injured wrist.

“That’s right,” the man replied.

Sam carefully touched his aching head. “And I was hurt,” he stated. He closed his eyes and ran his fingers over the bandages he found there. “And how long have I been here?” he continued, opening his eyes.

“Three days.”

“ _WHAT?!_ ” Sam exclaimed, nearly sitting up. He hissed in pain, falling back onto the pillows behind him. “I...NO! I need to call my boss! I just started my new job! I’ll be fired!”

The man shot a startled look at Doctor Griffin. “He’s been working there for four years!”

Sam darted his eyes back and forth between them anxiously. “What are you talking about ‘four years?’ And-And who _are you?_ ” he demanded, looking straight at the unfamiliar man. “And how do you even know my name?”

“Sam…” The man stood slowly to his feet, stricken. “You mean you…” He placed his uninjured hand over his chest. “It’s me, Sam. It’s Bill.”

“Mr. Koehler, may I talk to you outside for a moment?” Doctor Griffin said. He walked around Sam’s bed and took Bill’s arm, leading him towards the room’s door. “Lexie?” he called out once they reached it. “Please schedule Mr. Dobbs for an MRI ASAP.” He paused right before exiting the room and glanced back at Sam. “We’ll be right back, Mr. Dobbs. Lexie will take care of you while we’re gone.”

A nurse with shoulder-length dark-blonde hair and light-brown eyes entered the room. She smiled at Sam and checked the various machines that were gathered around his bed. “We’ve been wondering when you would wake up, Sam,” she said softly.

He only nodded in reply.

She inspected the lead on his IV. “Mr. Koehler came to see you right after he was treated for his sprained wrist. He has barely left your side. I’ve had to be ‘Ms. Nurse Scoldy’ with him to make him look after himself.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. He had been wondering why that man—Bill—had been holding his hand so familiarly. Were they…? Well, he was Sam’s type, but after everything that had happened in Rocky Road...

“Are you comfortable? Would you like another pillow? A blanket?”

The nurse’s words thankfully halted his painful trip down memory lane. And what he really wanted was to wake up from whatever hell he was currently in. Of course, the nurse who had been taking care of him over the past few days couldn’t exactly help him with that. “I really am just tired, and my head hurts.” He tried to move to a more comfortable position and groaned. “Am I hurt all over?”

“You’ve got a pretty bad contusion on your sternum, and a few bumps and scrapes. But they’ll heal in time.”

 _Terrific,_ he thought sarcastically. “Have I really been here for three days?” he asked. He was desperately trying to come to terms with what was happening to him. “And...And what did...Bill...mean when he said four years?”

Lexie bit her lip. “Sam, yes, you have been here for three days. As to what Mr. Koehler said...umm...I’m not the one you should be asking that about.”

Sam sighed despondently. What had happened to him? How had he ended up in—”Where am I?” he blurted out.

She blinked. “Where are you what?” she asked carefully.

He winced. His head was starting to hurt worse. “St. Joseph’s. What town is it in?”

“Denver, Sam,” Bill answered for her, walking back into the room. He was pale and his eyes were red and puffy. It was obvious that he had been upset. A part of Sam felt worried for him, and he was confused about that. “You’re in Denver.”

“Why am I in Denver?”

Bill opened his mouth, but Doctor Griffin placed his hand on Bill’s shoulder. “Mr. Koehler…” he said.

Sam furrowed his brow in confusion. “What’s going on?”

“Sam,” Bill sighed. “The accident… You hit your head really hard. The doc here thinks that you might, well, you might have…” His lower lip trembled. “Oh, Sam…” Bill’s face crumbled and he covered it with shaking hands.

Lexie immediately walked over and placed her arm around his shoulders. “Come on, Bill, let’s go sit down, hmm?” She led him to one of the chairs near the window. “There we go…”

Sam’s mind was whirling, and hurting even more. “What’s wrong with me?” He turned pleading eyes to the doctor, though he kept glancing at Bill sobbing next to Lexie. “Is it bad?”

The doctor made his way to Sam’s side. “Mr. Dobbs, I make it a point never to lie to my patients. Is it bad? Yes. Is it hopeless? No.”

“I appreciate that, doctor, but you still haven’t told me exactly what the hell is going on,” Sam said. He rubbed at his temple. “And my head is hurting like a bitch, by the way.”

“Too much stimulation. It’s from the concussion you sustained from the accident.”

Sam shook his head, then groaned. Bad idea. “I’m not understanding how a concussion caused me to sleep for three days…”

It was Doctor Griffin who shook his head next. “Mr. Dobbs, you didn't sleep for three days.” Sam widened his eyes at the doctor’s words. “You were in a coma from a grade 3 concussion. And judging from your behavior, I’m starting to suspect that you may have amnesia.”

 _Amnesia?_ “People don’t just get amnesia!” Sam protested. He couldn’t have amnesia! Only people in movies and cheesy soap operas get amnesia!

“I won’t make an actual diagnosis until after the MRI results.”

Sam stared at the ceiling, closing his eyes, yearning himself to remember. He had just started his new job. Met his new coworker. Then—

Then…

He woke up here.

_Fuck._

“Mr. Dobbs?”

He opened his eyes. “Yeah?”

“It’s time to get that MRI.”

“Let’s get it then.”

* * *

Bill could only watch as Sam was taken from the room in a wheelchair. Did he really not know who he was? The look he had given him earlier, when he had taken his hand away from him so easily…

The doctor had told him that this could be temporary. It could last a few days, a couple weeks. Maybe a month or two. Some people had amnesia for years, but slowly regained their memories. It took a lot of hard work and therapy, and the support of family and friends. Many never remembered the moments leading up to the accidents that caused the memory loss.

And in the worst cases, some never fully regained their memories at all.

And Bill was scared. What if Sam didn’t want to be with him? Would he go back to the life he had before? Would he even be interested in trying to know him at all?

Would he never remember them being—

Fear gripped his heart. Had he lost Sam?

 _Please,_ he prayed to whatever he was supposed to pray to. _Please please please…_

* * *

The MRI machine made his head hurt even worse, and the constant _knock-knock-knocking_ sounds it emitted as it performed its scan went on forever. The tech had told him that it would only last for forty-five minutes, but Sam swore it was much longer than that by the time he was finally pulled from inside of it.

“Thank God,” he whispered when the tech and Lexie came to assist him back into the wheelchair. “My head feels like it’s about to explode.”

“I’m sorry, but we’re being cautious at the moment until we know the extent of your TBI. That’s why you’ve only had Tylenol. After Doctor Griffin views your MRI, he’ll decide on what to do for pain, OK?” Lexie said softly.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes. He just wanted to go back to his room and lie down. Maybe sleep for a while. Well, try to sleep, anyway.

* * *

“You have bruising to your temporal lobe,” Doctor Griffin informed him a couple hours later. Sam was drinking some juice and eating some horrendous lime jello. He’d been told that his stomach had to take time to get used to food again. All he really wanted was pizza and Dr. Pepper. “I’m gonna prescribe something a little stronger for pain, but only temporarily. After that a moderate dose of Tylenol should suffice.”

Bill, who had been standing by the window, spoke. “Will he have to stay here longer too?” There were dark circles under his eyes. After what Lexie had told him, Sam was half-convinced that Bill had hardly slept over the past few days.

“I’m keeping him here for observation, and I’ve scheduled some physical therapy, as well as some sessions with therapists who specialize in improving memory functions.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “So in other words, I’m going to brain damage rehab.”

No one in the room seemed to find his comment funny, though a smile seemed to play about Bill’s mouth. Sam found that curious; not many people got his sense of humor. He may need to have a talk with him later, see who he was exactly in all this chaos he had awoken to.

“It’s a rehab, yes,” Doctor Griffin said. “A _cognitive_ rehab. The end goal is to help restore your memory as much as possible.”

“‘As much’?” Sam said, his voice wavering. “You mean I might not _ever_ get them all back?”

“There’s no definitive answer I can give you, Mr. Dobbs. This is a traumatic brain injury, and the brain is an extremely delicate organ. We’ll have to take this one step at a time. I and the staff here will support and guide you along the way.”

“I’ll be here too,” Bill said, stepping forward. “I’m not going anywhere, Sam.”

Sam turned towards him in surprise. “Y-You will? Why?”

Bill’s expression softened into one that made Sam’s whole body feel a way that he hadn’t known it could ever feel again. “Because you need me to.”

* * *

_Sam walked out of the small market, shaking his head. He’d never seen such a thing before: a young man and older woman, fighting over the price of a box of rice at the check-out counter. Sam had almost told them to forget it, that he’d get instant mashed potatoes instead, but was worried that it would start all over again. So, he let them continue until a “compromise” was reached._

_He wondered if this would happen each time he went, then decided that maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing. At least he’d have some entertainment whenever he went grocery shopping!_

_Reaching into his pocket for his car keys, he stopped at the sight of a police officer next to his car. Oh crap! Was he going to get a parking ticket less than a week after moving into town? He’d been ticket-free for two years now! And he swore that he parked in a perfectly legal spot!_

_As he walked up, he said, “Uh, Officer, sir? D-Did I do something wrong?”_

_The officer turned around and smiled. “No, not at all! Just admiring this beautiful car! Is she yours?”_

_Sam smiled brightly. Damn, what a hottie! Were all the cops in town this way? Then he admonished himself. **Stop it, Sam. Too soon.** “Yeah, my Barracuda is a looker, ain’t she?”_

_“‘69?”_

_“That she is!” Sam placed his groceries in the backseat then offered his hand. “Sam, Sam Dobbs.”_

_“Bill Koehler.” Bill returned the handshake. “New in town?”_

_Sam nodded in reply. “Sorta. I was in New Bern, but the people there are, well, I just didn’t like them. I remember driving through here, so I’m giving it a shot. I got a job at the gas station outside of town and started there a couple of weeks ago. I’m in the process of moving in to the apartments on the other side of town.”_

_“Welcome to Jericho! Hope you like it here!” Bill said. “I’ll have to warn you, though: the people here can be pretty nosy.”_

_“Oh, well, good to know! I’ll just shut my mouth now before I incriminate myself.” Sam’s eyes widened at the words that left his mouth. Why was he flirting? What had he just told himself?_

_Bill chuckled. “If you need me to, I’ll put in a good word for you with the townsfolk. You seem pretty harmless to me.”_

_Sam coughed. “Erm, yeah. I’d appreciate that. I kinda don’t have friends here yet…”_

_“Yeah ya do!” Bill grinned, and it reached his eyes. “And if you ever need anything, just look me up!”_

_“I…” Sam fumbled for words. “But you don’t even know me, Officer Koehler!”_

_Bill held up his hand. “Nuh-uh! Call me Bill; I’m off-duty and we’re friends now.” He crossed his arms, daring Sam to argue with him._

_Sam stared hard at Bill. Was this guy for real? Were all the people in Jericho this peculiar? The yelling match he’d witnessed in the market was making him think so._

_However, he did have to admit that there was no place as strange as Rocky Road..._

_“Alrighty then.” Sam stuck out his hand. “Friends it is, Bill. You can call me Sam.”_

* * *

“...need me to,” Sam whispered.

The others shared confused looks. “Mr. Dobbs?” Doctor Griffin asked.

Sam stared at Bill. “You’ve told me that before.”

Bill tilted his head. “Sam?”

Doctor Griffin came around the bed. “Mr. Dobbs? What’s happening?”

“I-I saw something?” He kept his eyes riveted on Bill’s face. “Y-You’re a cop?”

Bill swung his head towards the doctor. “He’s remembering?”

Sam strained his mind. Was he? He closed his eyes, focusing on what had just flashed across his consciousness. The inside of the market, the street, his car, Bill’s uniform… But that was all he got! Nothing more.

His eyes stung with tears when he opened them. “I can’t remember anything else,” he said, his voice cracking. “I can’t…”

Bill rushed to his side, gripping his shoulder. “Hey, it’s all right. You can’t just expect to remember everything all at once. It-It’s going to take a while.” His voice was calm and soothing. “Please don’t cry, Sam…”

Sam turned his head to Bill. The man’s eyes were full of caring concern. And it was all for him? They really were friends, weren’t they? But...But… “What if I’m like this forever? What if this is all I get?”

Bill bit his bottom lip. “Sam, I—”

“That’s why you’re going to stay here and work hard with your ‘brain rehab,’” Doctor Griffin said. Sam and Bill looked at him. “It’s not hopeless, Mr. Dobbs. Don’t give up.”

“Please don’t give up, Sam,” Bill said. Sam looked at Bill again. “ _Please._ ”

This time Bill’s eyes held something different within them. It was deeply familiar, but Sam couldn’t quite place it. He knew that he should know it, and it was frustrating the hell out of him. A voice in his head told him that it would hurt the man next to him if he didn’t try. He didn’t deserve that, after staying with him for three days straight.

“OK,” Sam said, and felt his heart leap in his chest at the relieved smile that appeared on Bill’s face. “I-I’ll try.”

* * *

He’d been in “brain rehab” for four days. It had been difficult at first, and he’d lost his temper a few times. He’d always considered himself an easy-going guy, so when he snapped at the nurses or other staff, it had truly surprised him. But after a day or two, he had found that he was getting a little better, and they let him rest when he got tired, no questions asked.

All the tasks and exercises were weird to him, though. They wanted him to write while there were distracting noises in the background and use these weird computer programs. Some of the tasks reminded him of English class from high school.

He was also informed that he should prepare himself for more memories to resurface. This both gave Sam hope and frightened him. He wanted those four years of his life back, yet he had been so distraught and confused afterwards.

Even though he had a better idea of who Bill was now and kinda knew where he himself lived and worked, he still _didn’t_ know at the same time! He must have friends there, must have places that he liked to go to and hang out at. Favorite restaurants, favorite tv channels and shows. But, they were all just _things_ to him—empty, unknown things. He would have no emotional attachment to them at all! Did everyone expect him to have an “Oh! Of course!” moment if or when he remembered? It was all unsettling to him, those strangers and things from his past that were far away from him in more ways than one.

“Sam? If you don’t like what they brought you for lunch, I can see about sneaking you in something else.”

Sam roused from his anxious musings to see Bill watching him. Bill, who was always there as soon as visiting hours began and there until they ended. He had yet to have that talk with him. He didn’t know how to start it.

“Uh, well, ya know how much I love, um…” Sam glanced at the tray before him. “Mystery meat meatloaf and vegetables whose juices have mixed in with the mashed potatoes.” He smirked and snatched up the chocolate pudding. “But at least I can have the ‘healthy’ sugar-free dessert!”

Bill shook his head. “You can’t just have pudding for lunch, Sam; eat some of your vegetables first!”

“I’m an adult and can eat whatever I want, Mr. Bossy Pants!” He stared at Bill’s shocked expression. “What?”

“I…” Bill swallowed and shook his head, his eyes going bright and shiny. “It’s nothing.”

Sam set the pudding down. “A-Am I remembering something else? Or starting to?” Hope filled him, but it clashed with dread at the expression on Bill’s face.

Bill took a deep breath and smiled. “I think you are, Sam.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Looks like someone’s wrist is feeling better!” Sam said when Bill entered the room. It had been ten days since the accident, and Bill’s doctor had given him the all-clear to take the brace off. He still had to be careful and take medication for pain now and then, though.

Bill nodded and held up a bag of take-out. “I come bearing gifts! Tacos!” he announced. “And yes, they’re _authentic_ tacos, not ones from some fast food joint.” 

Sam’s face split with a huge grin and Bill returned it. “Oh thank God! I’m starving!” He held out his hands. “Gimme!”

Laughing, Bill quickly walked over and handed him the bag. “And yes, I remembered to ask for spicy salsa and pico de gallo.”

“You really _do_ know me!” Sam placed the bag onto the overbed table before him. “Come to papa!”

Bill knew better than to watch Sam stuff his face, so he took out his cell phone and went to stand by the window. He dialed up his co-worker, Jimmy Taylor.

“Yup?”

“Hey. Just wanted to make sure that you made it back safely.” Jimmy had driven Bill’s truck to Denver for him the day before and taken a cab back that morning. 

“Yup, made it in about an hour ago.”

Bill took a chance and peeked from the corner of his eye at Sam, then quickly looked away. How he didn’t choke on his food was a miracle. “Glad to hear it. Did you check—”

Jimmy interrupted him. “Bill, don’t worry. Margaret and I have been checking on the house for you every day; things are fine there. And Joe wanted me to tell you that he’s going to get started on Sam’s car.”  
  
“That’s great. The sooner the better on that.” Good. Another load off of Bill’s mind. 

“I know I’ve said it before, but I’m damn sorry this is happening, Bill,” Jimmy said quietly.

Bill lowered his eyes to the floor. “Yeah, me too. I definitely didn’t plan for this to happen while we were in Denver.” And he definitely hadn’t planned on having to call his boss to tell him that he would need to use his saved up vacation/sick days while Sam was in the hospital and convalescing. 

“Everyone knows that Sam’s tougher than he looks, Bill. He’ll get better, and we’re all here for both of you.”

Bill exhaled heavily. He would always be thankful for the support of his friends. “Thanks.”

“Well, hopefully you’ll hear something today about him getting to come home soon. Do you know what time the doctor is supposed to come see Sam?”

“Here in a few,” Bill answered. Doctor Griffin was coming to talk to Sam about possibly releasing him from the hospital today. Sam’s external injuries were manageable now, and the therapists and specialists had taught Sam exercises he could perform on his own.

“Let us know what the verdict is,” Jimmy said. “In the meantime, I think I’ll take a much-needed nap..”  
  
“You’ve more than earned it. Talk to you soon, Jimmy.”

“Later, Bill.”

As he hung up, Sam said, “Was that someone I know too?”

Bill slipped his phone into his pocket. “Yeah. And they’re hoping that you get better soon.”

Sam looked down at the empty container on the table. “I’m a _little_ better.”

“Yes you are, Sam.” Bill made his way over and cleared away the remains of Sam’s lunch. “And you’re going to _keep_ getting better, OK?” 

“Thank you for being here for me, Bill.” Sam raised his head and looked at Bill with soft, amber eyes. Everyone always said that he and Sam had the most unique-colored eyes they’d ever seen, and that it made them a matched pair. Bill always scoffed at it, but Sam thought it made them special.

“You needed me,” he answered honestly. He went to toss the trash in the wastebasket. 

“And you’ll stay? You won’t go anywhere?” Sam asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

Bill paused before throwing the trash away. He quickly turned and said, “Of course I won’t.” Was Sam thinking about…?

“I’m sorry if I’m acting weird, but right now you’re the only link I have right now to what I’ve lost,” Sam said, lowering his head and pushing the overbed table aside with his hand. “If-If you were to just leave, I wouldn’t know what to do, or where to go.”

Bill wished that he could fix what was wrong for Sam. Sit down and talk with him, “fill in the gaps.” He’d asked Doctor Griffin if that were possible, if he could help Sam remember by mentioning things to him. But the doctor had only shaken his head, saying that Sam needed to recover his memories from his own perspective, not Bill’s. Bill could, however, try to encourage a memory to resurface by using memory cues—a picture or a cherished object—but only if the situation called for it. 

The best thing Bill could do, Doctor Griffin had said, was to support Sam and be someone he could confide in. Bill didn’t have to think twice about doing that.

“Are you worried about what will happen if Doctor Griffin _does_ give you the OK to be released?” Bill asked, taking his usual seat next to Sam’s bed. “Has this been bothering you, Sam?”

* * *

Sam fought himself from meeting Bill’s gaze. He wanted to tell Bill that he was not only worried about leaving the hospital, but he was also afraid. Outside the building was a world that he didn’t know. It was foreign to him, alien. He didn’t know a damn thing about it. He had tried to watch TV, but he had barely managed to tolerate the computer screens during therapy; the television was just too much for him. He’d attempted to read a newspaper, but it was so slow-going that he gave up. One of his therapists told him that it was just part of the healing process. 

“The world is a stranger to me, Bill.” It was the only way that he could explain it. “I don’t know what it is anymore.” 

“You’re not gonna face it alone, OK?” Bill placed his hands on Sam’s arm, gripping it gently. “It’s gonna be all right, Sam.”

Sam had noticed that Bill always touched his arm when he tried to console him, and he did it very easily. Bill’s touching him didn’t bother him like it had when he’d first awoken; he actually appreciated it. Sam needed comfort and reassurance, and for some reason that he both understood and didn’t, Bill did that for him.

And he wanted to know why.

Time to see if he could have that talk… Or try to anyway.

“So, you’re gonna face it with me? Is that what you’re saying?” Sam slowly turned his head towards Bill, who was smiling gently at him. “Even after I have to leave here?” 

Bill nodded. “Yes. I’m not going anywhere, Sam.”

Sam tilted his head, furrowing his brow in confusion. Bill wasn’t lying; he was being one hundred honest with him. If that was the case… “Bill, what exactly are we to each other?”

“We’re—” Bill was cut off as the door to Sam’s room opened, admitting Doctor Griffin and Nurse Lexie. He let go of Sam’s arm, and Sam secretly wished that he hadn’t.

“Hello Mr. Dobbs, Mr. Koehler,” the doctor said, nodding to each man in turn. “How are you feeling today?” He directed the question at Sam.

“I’m feeling…” Sam glanced at Bill, who was looking at him calmly. He wondered what he was thinking. “I guess I’m a little nervous about what you’re gonna say. I’m not sure what I wanna hear, doc.”

Doctor Griffin folded his hands in front of him. “Mr. Dobbs, you’ll hear the truth. Is that OK?”

Well, he couldn’t say no to that, could he? He had no reason to. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“You have made exceptional progress over the past week, Mr. Dobbs. I haven’t had many patients who have improved as quickly as you have. Your resolve has impressed my colleagues.” From the corner of his eye, Sam noticed Bill gazing at him proudly; it made Sam’s confidence rise a bit. “After a lot of careful consideration, I’ve decided that you are ready to go home, to continue your recovery outside the hospital.”

The slight increase of confidence Sam had just gained plummeted. So he _was_ going to leave the hospital. But where would he go? He didn’t even know where he lived anymore. He still had so many questions that he didn’t have answers to! “Wh-Where would I do that? Would I stay near here? Would I still be coming here to see you and the other doctors if I needed to?”

Doctor Griffin exchanged a look with Bill, who shook his head. The doctor gave him a nod, as if in encouragement. Sam looked between them warily. What was going on? “Bill?” he said, turning to the man beside him.

“Sam,” Bill began. “In Jericho. We, that is, you and I… Well, we share a house. And, um, we...we live—”

“Whoa! Hold up!” Sam jerked away from Bill, staring at him. “Are you saying that we’re _that_ close?” Was that why he kept having those familiar feelings whenever he looked at Bill? Why the casual touches didn’t bother him so much? “Bill, tell me right now: are we friends, or are we...something else?” 

“Sam, I don’t—”

Sam swore as he slammed his fists on the bed, making Bill jump. “Dammit, just tell me or I’ll-I’ll walk out of this hospital to my car and—”

* * *

_Sam sighed in frustration. His damn car! He glared at the hood, resisting the urge to slam his fists onto it. He’d been meaning to get a tune-up, but he’d used all his savings on the move from Rocky Road. It was five o’clock in the morning, a Wednesday, and he was stranded on the side of the road. He just wanted to go home and sleep!_

_What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know anyone! He ran a hand through his hair and paced back and forth along the side of his car. He was five miles from the gas station where he worked and six or seven from town. It was a long-ass walk either way, especially considering how exhausted and upset he was._

_He was just contemplating on crawling in the backseat and taking a nap for a while when a police car pulled over and parked behind him. His eyes widened at the sight of Bill—_ ** _No, Officer Koehler; he’s on duty now,_ ** _he reminded himself—stepping out of the car._

_“Car trouble?” Officer Koehler asked, striding up to stand near the trunk of Sam’s car. His stance was casual, but he kept a hand on his belt. Yep, definitely on duty._

_“Yeah, and it’s my fault,” Sam answered. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "She’s due a visit to the mechanic, but I’ve had other...things...to worry about.”_

_Officer Koehler looked between Sam and the red car a few times. "What have you tried to get it to crank?”_

_Sam raised an eyebrow. “You know about cars?” he asked in surprise._

_“My dad might’ve taught me a thing or two.”_

_Twenty minutes later found the officer instructing Sam to crank the car “one more time.” Sam rolled his eyes and complied, muttering, “Yeah, yeah, Mr. Bossy Pants.”_

_“What was that?” Bill’s head popped around the raised hood._

_“I said that you’re bossy!” Sam said. Not only was he tired, he was also getting cranky and hungry as well. “This isn’t working, Bill!” His mouth dropped open. “I-I mean Officer Koehler!”_

_“Bill’s fine, Sam. I’m almost off-shift anyway.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I’m not being ‘bossy’; I’m giving you directions.”_

_“Hmph!” Sam snorted. Bill ignored him._

_It soon became apparent that Sam’s beloved car was in need of a proper mechanic, and as Sam closed and locked the driver’s side door, he said, “I can hear my wallet crying.”_

_Bill was wiping his hands clean on an old towel he’d gotten from the trunk of the patrol car. Sam guessed it had been there for police things. “I’ll get you a deal with someone I know.”_

_Sam sighed. “Let’s hope they take payment plans. I had just enough credit to get my apartment.”_

_“The people in Jericho might surprise you with their generosity, Sam.” Bill started to make his way to his patrol car. “Are you hungry?”_

_“Huh?” Sam turned towards him. “What?”_

_Bill leaned against his driver’s side door. “It’s breakfast time, and I’ve worked all night. I’m starving, and I need some coffee. I planned on grabbing some food before I headed home. Care to join me? We can swing by Joe’s; he’s the best mechanic you’ll ever meet. I can take you home afterwards.”_

_“I, uh, thanks! That would be great!” Sam ran and hopped into the other side of the patrol car._

* * *

“...Sam? SAM!” Bill shouted.

“Mr. Dobbs?” Fingers snapped in front of his face. “Mr. Dobbs! Are you with us?”

Sam blinked his eyes rapidly, Doctor Griffin’s face coming into focus. Bill! Bill had helped him again in Jericho! Was that what had made them close friends? Or were they more? He peered at Bill from the corner of his eye, seeing that he was very distraught. Was it possible?

He never thought he could be that way with someone again. But, Bill had said four years; that was a long time. A damn long time.

Warm hands covered his own, and Sam dropped his eyes to them. Now that was _very_ familiar. “Sam?” Bill’s voice was full of worry. “I-I’ll tell you, just please say something.”

“Where’s my car?” That memory, it had been triggered because he’d been thinking about his car. But them living together... “And...And are we a couple, Bill?”

Bill’s face paled even more than it already was. “Your car?”

That grabbed Sam’s attention. “Y-Yeah. We’re here because of an accident, so I’m assuming we were in a vehicle. Which vehicle?”

Bill looked away, and Sam sighed, closing his eyes. “She’s gone, isn’t she?” he said, feeling as if another part of himself had been lost to that empty void in his memories. 

“No, Sam!” Bill exclaimed. Sam snapped his eyes open to look hopefully at Bill. “I had your car taken back to Jericho, to Joe’s. He’s gonna have her looking good as new in no time, you’ll see!”

“Joe...the mechanic? The same guy who fixed my car the first time?” Sam asked. The look of surprise in Bill’s eyes made Sam smile a bit.

“Y-You remember that?” Bill squeezed Sam’s hands. “You remembered something else?”

Sam nodded. “I did.” He then sobered. “But Bill, my other question?”

“I told you I’d tell you.” Bill sighed, taking his hands away, and Sam felt cold. He didn’t like it. He watched Bill take his phone from his jeans pocket and tap his finger upon it a few times. “Here.”

“What are you showing me?” he asked, taking the phone from Bill. He lowered his eyes to the image displayed upon its screen. It was of him and Bill, standing on the dock of a lake. They were both in swim trunks, and the day was bright and sunny. Bill’s arm was wrapped around his waist, and Sam was… Sam brought the phone closer to his face. Yes, he was looking at Bill in shocked surprise. 

What a strange picture.

“That was the summer after you moved to Jericho,” Bill said. 

* * *

_Jericho had a cookout every year on Independence Day at Bass Lake, and according to Gabi, Sam’s coworker, everyone who was able to attended the event._

_Sam hadn’t planned on coming; he didn’t really know anyone but Bill and Stanley Richmond. It had been two months since he had moved to Jericho, and Bill had invited him out every weekend to hang out with him and Stanley. They didn’t really do much besides play pool or grab a bite at Baileys, and sometimes watch a game if one were on. Sam had discovered that there wasn’t actually that much to_ **_do_ ** _in Jericho. If one wanted to do something_ **_really_ ** _exciting, they had to drive over the state line into Colorado to Denver for that._

_Yesterday right before Sam’s shift had ended, Bill had walked into the store and asked Sam if he was going to the cookout. Sam of course had given him a blank stare; he had no idea what he was talking about._

_“You know, the Fourth of July picnic? There have been flyers all over town!” Gabi had piped up enthusiastically._

_Sam had groaned inwardly. She was up to her antics again. She was convinced that Bill liked him, but Sam disagreed. Bill had given him no sign that he was interested in him at all. In fact, Sam didn’t even think that Bill could be interested in him that way to begin with. As far as he knew, Bill was straight._

_And a relationship wasn’t high on his list of priorities anyway. He had too much baggage from bad past relationships, and, well, he still needed a little more time._

_“Uh, no. I haven’t seen them. I don’t pay attention to those sorts of things.” And he didn’t. He just went to town to run errands as quickly as possible and left. He was always too damn tired to care about anything else._

_“Well I think you should go, Sam! No one in town ever sees you out and about.” Gabi placed her hands on her hips. “We’re all friendly and we won’t bite.”_

_Bill started to laugh. “She’s right, ya know. I keep telling you that. I’m game if you are, Sam.”_

_Sam didn’t want to say no to Bill, his friend who was always there to lend a helping hand, who didn’t mind buying him a sandwich now and then when Sam’s paycheck was stretched thin for whatever reason._

_So now here he was, standing off by himself next to his car watching other residents of the town mingling and enjoying themselves. He really should just go back home. It was hot and he was thirsty, and he really didn’t want to walk over to the table that had a handful of coolers full of drinks set on top of it._

_He knew that he shouldn’t be so anti-social—it was completely unlike him—but after jumping into everything like he’d done in Rocky Road, he was wary. He had vowed to think things through from now on._ _  
_ _  
_ _Which he was sucking at, since he was here standing alone and looking like an idiot at a town picnic._

_“Hey, Sam!” He turned at the voice to see Bill striding up. “Sorry I’m a bit late. Had a situation that prolonged work a bit.”_

_Sam swallowed. Bill was wearing swim shorts and a t-shirt, and he couldn’t help but admire the muscles of Bill’s legs and arms. He had the body of a person who obviously exercised regularly._

_“Hi!” he called back. Sam had also worn swim shorts and a t-shirt, but he knew he looked nothing like Bill. He’d never been one for working out. Well, he supposed he could describe himself as “limber,” but that wasn’t exactly the same thing._

_“Been here long?” Bill asked, coming to stand beside him. He frowned as he looked around them. “Have you been standing here the entire time? Why aren’t you walking around talking to everybody?”_

_“I was waiting on you?” Sam saw Bill’s frown deepen. “OK, fine, I didn’t know what to say or do. I’m still feeling like the new kid at school.” Sam crossed his arms and leaned against his car._

_Bill shook his head and tossed the towel he carried in his hand into the backseat of Sam’s car. “Can’t have that. Let me introduce you, alright?” He took off at a fast pace towards the crowd, and Sam’s eyes widened._

_“W-Wait up!” he said, stumbling after him._

_There were a blur of faces. The mayor’s family, Bill’s coworkers, people from the library, the salt mine. The old lady and man from the market. He finally got to meet Bonnie, Stanley’s little sister. They all were more or less polite and friendly, and Sam hoped that he could remember their names if he met them in town again._

_“See? Not so bad. How’s that pop?” Bill asked when they were finished. They were sitting on the edge of the dock, feet in the cool water of the lake._

_Sam took a drink. “It’s fine.” It was more than fine. He had been incredibly thirsty. “This is fun, Bill. I’m glad I came.”_

_Bill smiled. “I’m glad you came too. I like spending time with you, Sam.”_

_He almost choked on the sip of pop he’d been taking. Bill_ ** _what?_ ** _Before Sam could ask what he’d meant, they heard footsteps running up the dock behind them._

_“There you two are!” Gabi said mischievously as they turned. “Was wondering where you guys went off to!”_

_Sam shot her a look. Yeah, he bet she did. Bill stood and Sam got to his feet beside him. “You've been looking for us?” Bill asked her._

_“I’m taking pictures for the paper. Mayor Green asked me to.” Her eyes lit up. “You two are in a perfect spot! Stand a bit closer and smile, OK?”_

_He was going to kill her! Sam sighed and prepared to have an embarrassing picture taken, then jumped as he felt Bill’s arm slide around his waist. He whipped his face towards Bill, dropping his mouth open in astonishment._

_“Got it! That was perfect! Thanks, guys!” Sam snapped his head in her direction, about to call her name, but she winked and took off back up the dock._

_He just stood there, Bill’s arm still around his waist. “Wh-What just happened?” he stammered._

_“We...took a picture?” Bill said._

_Sam turned to him, expecting Bill to be looking at him in amusement. However, Bill was gazing at him softly. Fondly._

_Did he… Was Gabi right? Bill liked him?_

_But he wasn’t… It was too soon…_

_But Bill was…_

_Gathering his courage, Sam took a deep breath and asked, “Next week, when we go out, can it just be you and me? Ya know, alone?”_

_Bill’s eyes brightened and a huge smile spread across his face._

_“I thought you’d never ask, Sam.”_

* * *

Sam bit his bottom lip as the feelings from Bill’s words that day poured over him. He was uncertain about how to react to them. He was filled with warmth and wonder, yet it all seemed so far outside of him at the same time, like they had happened to someone else. 

Deep down, he didn’t like that. Those were _supposed_ to be his feelings.

Weren’t they?

“This...This was the day we…?” Sam slowly raised his eyes to Bill, who was watching him with a hopeful and anxious expression. “You and I…? We’re…”

Bill took Sam’s hands. “Together? Yeah, we are.” His smile echoed the one from the memory Sam had just recalled, and Sam was mesmerized by it. How well had he gotten to know this man in four years? How far along was their relationship? Wait, hadn’t Bill said that they shared a house?

“And we live together? Where? M-My apartment was a shoebox.” He didn’t own a lot either; just a very uncomfortable twin bed and second-hand recliner. He was working on saving up for other furnishings, but he hadn’t planned on moving twice.

“Yeah, not your apartment. Could you imagine two people living there?” Bill chuckled, shaking his head. “I doubt that you and I would’ve lasted for very long.”

Sam could very well imagine; he’d had two roommates of his own once in a cramped little house. Unfortunately, what he couldn’t imagine was how he and Bill would live together _now._ He didn’t know their daily routines, the way they should act around each other, Bill’s moods, _any_ of that. Sam might know that Bill was his friend—well, now obviously _more_ than a friend—but he still didn’t _know._

He was so fucking tired of not knowing. 

“So what’s the story there? Me and you moving in together?”


	3. Chapter 3

Doctor Griffin interrupted what Bill had been about to say. “I think it may be best for you to figure that out on your own, Mr. Dobbs.” He was scribbling away on Sam’s chart. “How do you feel about Mr. Koehler’s assisting you after your release from St. Joseph’s?”

Sam’s eyes narrowed. “I’m trying to ‘figure that out’ by asking him about it!” he snapped. His eyes started to burn, the anger and confusion finally too much for him to bear. “I-I can’t do it this way! This-This isn’t _normal!_ ”

His breathing grew harsh, pain twinging across his chest, his still bruised sternum protesting against the rapid movement. He winced, feebly grabbing at the front of the hospital gown he wore. “Shit…” He wouldn’t cry! _He wouldn’t cry!_ “How am I supposed to make any decisions when I don’t know everything I need to know to make them?!” he shouted.

“Mr. Dobbs, we’ve explained the importance of—”

“I don’t care anymore!” Sam hissed in a breath. “I don’t care…” He cursed himself as the tears he’d been holding back fell from his eyes. The pain from yelling and getting upset hurt almost as much as the emotions he’d been holding back for nearly two weeks. “I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

“Mr. Dobbs—”

Bill stood. “He said that he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.” The doctor glanced between him and Sam, nodded, then led Lexie out the door.

“Come find me when you’ve made your decision,” he said before closing the door behind him.

Sam fought to keep control of himself, wiping at his eyes with his hands. He’d done everything that had been asked of him by the doctors and therapists. He wasn’t the perfect patient by any means, but he had completed each task, learned how to perform every exercise. Maybe he was being an ass, but was it too much to ask for a little help when he was expected to make a major decision? Would _they_ go live with someone they only had a few fleeting memories about?

“These would work better.” Bill’s hand appeared in his vision, holding a few tissues. Sam’s eyes followed the length of Bill’s arm up to his face. The kind, warm eyes of his—friend? boyfriend?—were watching him with concern. “What can I do, Sam?”

He took the tissues and shook his head. “I don’t… I can’t… I’m…” He breathed in deeply and slowly, mindful of his injured chest. Holding Bill’s gaze, he whispered, “I-I’m scared, Bill. No one wants to help me but you, but I don’t _know_ you…”

“I wish that I could make all this go away for you, but I can’t. I don’t know _how._ ” Bill looked away, and the wetness that appeared in his eyes sent a surge of guilt through Sam. “But what I do know”—Bill turned back to him—”is that we all want you to get better. The doctors, the therapists… Me.”

Sam fisted the tissues in his hand. He was barely holding on by a thread. “But you all want me to act like it’s just completely normal to shack up with someone I barely know!”

* * *

Bill watched helplessly as Sam shook with a new wave of tears. This wasn’t right! Where was his bright, light-hearted Sam? He’d been assured that for all intents and purposes, Sam had the same personality he always had. However, hearing Sam say that he was afraid made his heart twist.

Could Sam be afraid of him too? No! He’d never, ever hurt Sam! How could he prove that to him?

“Please don’t be scared,” he said softly. “Please don’t be scared of me, Sam.”

Sam exhaled brokenly. “I’m not scared of you, Bill. I’m...I’m scared of what’s happening. I’m scared of what _might_ happen. Heh…” he laughed hollowly. “I’m scared of what might _not_ happen.” His lips started to tremble along with his hands. “Everything is out of my control! I’m like a little kid with adults making all the decisions for me!” He snapped his head up and glared at Bill with steely, tear-soaked eyes. “I’M NOT A CHILD!”

Bill wanted to tell Sam that it would be all right. He wanted to say that all Sam needed to do was try and be patient. But something told him that it would only make it worse.

So, he did what he’d always done when Sam was distraught.

“I’m sorry,” Bill said, standing and embracing Sam. He heard and felt him gasp in surprise, and stopped himself from tightening his hold; he wouldn’t force Sam to stay in his arms. “I’m sorry that you feel this way, Sam.”

But Sam leaned heavily against him, raising his hands and gripping the front of his shirt. “Bill…” he rasped. “I don’t know what to do. I just don’t know…”

Once again Bill had to stop himself from holding Sam against him more firmly. He also had to resist the urge from kissing the top of his head. It made him realize that the need to be affectionate would be something that might happen by accident—through no fault of his own—if Sam were to come back with him to Jericho. Giving him a comforting hug was one thing; going beyond that without Sam’s consent...it would be wrong. Bill had dealt with far too many situations like that. He wouldn’t put Sam through it.

 _Doctor Griffin said that going back to Jericho would provide more substantial memory cues for Sam,_ his conscience reminded him. Bill then listened as Sam continued to slowly calm down. Yes, Sam needed to come back home, but he couldn’t stay with Bill. Alright, they would just improvise is all. “Would it make you feel better if I stayed somewhere else? Let you have the house to yourself?” he asked.

“Wh-What?” Sam raised his head, his eyes round in confusion. “Bill, I can’t do that! It’s your house! It wouldn’t be right!”

Bill held up a hand. “First of all, it’s your house too. Second, don’t you think it’ll help with all the ‘living with a stranger’ fears you’re experiencing?” Bill averted his eyes. “And, since there’s only one bedroom… Well, ya know…”

“Umm, yeah.” Sam cleared his throat as well. “But, are you sure? Maybe I should stay somewhere else. Wait…” Sam ran a hand down his tear-stained face. “I-I don’t know anyone in Jericho… Well, _remember,_ anyway.”

“Staying at our house will hopefully help you remember more, Sam,” Bill said as he looked back. “And it’s no problem at all. I want you to feel safe and comfortable. It’s not about me, it’s about you. I can stay with Stanley; he won’t care.”

Sam pulled away, the tissues Bill gave to him still clutched in his hand. He began to tear them into tiny pieces. “I feel like I’d be intruding on your privacy; on someone else’s privacy. And yet, I won’t be at the same time.” The torn bits of paper fluttered to his lap. “It’s so damn messed up in my head right now, Bill!”

Bill reached over and grasped his hands. “What did I tell you earlier? You’re going to keep getting better, Sam. The doctor said that you’ve done so well in such a short period of time. You were in Jericho for the last four years. Seeing where you were everyday, the places you went, the people you talked to, all of that—don’t you think it could help with your memories?”

“I’m still afraid, Bill,” Sam whispered. He hadn’t removed his hands from Bill’s. “I’m afraid that I’ll go to Jericho and nothing will happen. That I’ll be this version of me forever. I’ll have to start all over again.”

“Then we’ll do that,” Bill said firmly.

* * *

Sam stilled. Bill would do _what?_ “Excuse me?”

“Even though I don’t think that it’ll come down to that, if you have to start from square one—which you won’t, because you’ve already remembered how we met _and_ a bit after that,” Bill smiled. “I’ll ‘start over’ with you, Sam.”

Shaking his head, Sam took his hands away from Bill’s and ran them down his face. It was sticky and hot from his crying, but he wasn’t worried about that at the moment. “Y-You’re really going to stay with me, even though I’m not the same person anymore?”

“Sam, you haven’t changed. True, you don’t remember how we grew closer, but I do. And I’m not going anywhere. I _can’t_ go anywhere, because I know if this had happened to me, if our positions were reversed, you’d…” Bill grinned. “Well, knowing you, you would probably have me laughing by now.”

Yeah, that did sound like him. It made Sam wonder, though... Had he shared with Bill the reason why he had moved away from Rocky Road?

He studied the bits of torn tissue paper in his lap, contemplating about asking him just that. To Bill, it might have been an old conversation, but to Sam, it was still painfully fresh. No, he’d wait; maybe...maybe he’d remember about it later.

But he’d only remember if there was something to _make_ him remember…

Maybe that something was in Jericho.

“Would I be alone all the time?” Sam asked softly. Bill tilted his head at the question. “Staying at you-our house. Would I just be alone? I won’t be able to drive for a while, I’m guessing,” he elaborated.

Bill shook his head. “Well, you’d still need to take it easy for a few days. I could visit during the day, bring you food. Maybe have some friends of ours come see you if you want.”

“So I’d be cooped up the entire time?” Sam looked about his hospital room. “What would be the difference between here and there, then?”

“Sam, it hasn’t even been two weeks since the accident. You’re still healing from your concussion and all those other bumps and bruises you got. You’ll have to be careful is all. After that, we’ll go drive around town. See how your car is coming along.”

That made sense. Sam was still pretty sore, and he had a feeling that there were stitches beneath the bandages on his head. He hadn’t asked, because something told him that there were A LOT of them under there. “And you’re sure that I wouldn’t be putting you out?”

“Absolutely sure.” Bill’s lips slowly started to curl up at the edges. “So does that mean…?”

Sam shrugged. “I, uh, guess it does.” He darted his eyes towards the door. “You think I owe the doc an apology now?”

* * *

The warm sun hit Sam’s face as he was wheeled out of the hospital. He closed his eyes and inhaled the fresh, late summer air. It was so good, being outside! It had been a rough afternoon, and this just made him feel so much better!

Doctor Griffin had been amused at his apology, and it made Sam think that the physician must get shouted at quite often. It made him feel even worse for kicking him and Lexie out of his room. He’d apologized for that as well, but they’d both been more concerned about him.

When Sam revealed his and Bill’s plans for Jericho, Doctor Griffin had been pleased. They discussed the names of specialists Sam could receive care from in the vicinity of Jericho, and the date of his follow-up with Doctor Griffin. Bill was advised to replace Sam’s cell phone ASAP, since it had been damaged beyond repair in the accident.

“Do you know all the names I had on it? All the… Well, _everything_ I had on it?” Sam asked.

Bill had given him a remorseful look. “We didn’t exactly keep tabs on each other’s phones, Sam.”

Looking back, Sam figured that was a positive thing. He and Bill trusted each other, didn’t snoop into the other’s things. That said a lot.

He braced himself as Bill lowered the wheelchair off the curb. “OK?” Bill asked.

“Yup. Keep going, get me as far away as fast as you can,” Sam said, smiling over his shoulder.

“Will do,” Bill replied with an amused wink. He steered him towards a dusty black truck, a mid ‘90s Chevy model from what Sam could discern, and parked the wheelchair on the passenger’s side. “Need help?”

Sam shook his head and slowly stood. “I got it.” He reached out and placed his hand on the door handle.

* * *

_“So **this** is what you drive!” Sam said as he got into Bill’s truck. “Um, it’s nice.”_

_Bill looked confused. “Something wrong with it?”_

_Sam quickly shook his head. “Nothing at all! It’s just that everyone here seems to own one.”_

_“You haven’t driven around here very much yet, have you?” When Sam shrugged in reply, Bill smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, you’ll find out why there’s so many trucks.” He then scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Where do you wanna go?”_

_“You picked me up, so that puts you in charge.” He glanced over at Bill. “Surprise me.”_

_Bill grinned. “You mind getting dirty?”_

_Sam swallowed. “E-Excuse me?”_

_“Your clothes, Sam!” Bill coughed and waved his arms in front of his face quickly. “Y-You’re clothes! Is it OK if they get dirty?”_

_“Uhh…” Sam had worn jeans, a blue and white plaid shirt, and sneakers. All casual, more or less. If they got dirty, he’d just wash them._

_But…_

_“Wait. **How** dirty?”_

_“Umm…” Bill faced forwards and tapped his steering wheel. “Depends if you plan on falling off or not.”_

* * *

“I’ve ridden in this before,” Sam said, running his hand over the door handle. Bill had come to stand beside him, the wheelchair pushed to the side. “I mean, I’m assuming I have before, but this is the first time I actually remember…”

“Yeah, you have.” Bill took his elbow and directed him to open the door and sit inside. After making sure Sam had his seatbelt secured about him, Bill closed the door and returned the wheelchair. Sam sat and stared around the interior of the truck’s cab, noting that it looked exactly as it had in the memory he’d just experienced.

* * *

_**Screeching metal… Bill calling his name… Shattering glass… Police sirens… Stinging pain...** _

* * *

He jerked when the driver’s side door opened and Bill climbed into the cab of the truck. “Sorry I took so long,” he said, buckling himself in and starting the engine. “Wanted to make sure that I turned in the wheelchair correctly.”

“Yeah, it’s a good idea to do that,” Sam said, keeping his eyes turned towards his window. What the hell had that been?

“You want to grab some snacks? It’ll be a while until we can have dinner.”

The thought of food at the moment made Sam a bit nauseated. “I think I’ll just doze off, if that’s OK.”

Bill nodded. “Of course it is. You can sleep the whole way back. I’ll get you home safe.”

* * *

_Sam felt really gross. He wasn’t dirty, just sweaty and smelled a lot like horse._

_Bill had taken him to the Green’s ranch, intending on riding horses. However, Bill had ended up giving Sam his first horseback riding lesson instead._

_And Sam had loved it. True, he was nervous about sitting on the back of an animal that outweighed him by who knows how many pounds, and could probably hurt him or worse, but Bill was so patient with him, and understood his fear. Sam had made a few rounds around the paddock on “Hazel” and discovered that he couldn’t wait to learn more._

_He also couldn’t wait to learn more about Bill._

_Bill had dropped him off in front of his apartment, asked if he wanted to get together again next week. Sam, detecting the anxious note in his voice, had quickly, and happily, said that he would._

_He’d said goodbye, watching Bill drive off down the street. That had been amazing. Different than what he’d experienced before, but amazing._

_Now all he wanted was a shower. He was sore from riding a horse for the first time._

_**He turned to walk up to his apartment, but was thrown forwards. Pain burst behind his eyelids and radiated up his chest, searing across his forehead. He tried to flail his arms, but they were frozen to his sides.** _

_**Vomit threatened to come up his throat, and he gasped for air. What was happening?! They were… It was… He had just—** _

* * *

A hand gently shaking his shoulder made him snap his eyes open. “Wh-Wha…?”

“We’re just about to hit the exit for Jericho,” Bill said. “You all right? Took me a short bit to wake you up.”

Sam pushed himself up in his seat, groaning at the dull throb in his chest. Fuck, what had he been dreaming about? Or was it a dream? One of his therapists had mentioned memories manifesting in them. But what had happened at the end, and those weird “blips” or whatever in the hospital parking lot…

“Bill?”

“Yeah?” Bill directed the truck to exit the highway.

“Have we ever ridden horses together?”

Bill looked at him from the corner of his eye. “When did you…?” He slowed the truck to a stop at the end of the exit ramp before turning his head halfway towards him. “Did you dream about it?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?” Bill asked, puzzled. “Can you tell me anything about it?” He checked the road for traffic, then turned the truck left. “And to answer your question: yes, we’ve ridden horses. Lots of times, in fact.”

Sam’s eyes studied the landscape going by. Farmland surrounded them, dotted by houses and barns and silos. The wide-open spaces of Kansas had appealed to him, as if they’d give him room to breathe freely. It was hard for him to explain to anyone.

His gaze drifted over to Bill, whose eyes remained on the road, hands wrapped securely around the steering wheel. Did he ever figure out a way to tell all that to him? Tell him all the reasons why he’d left Rocky Road in the first place?

Sam began to think of himself as a puzzle, a puzzle with missing pieces. Those pieces were scattered about in the people who knew him from the time he couldn’t remember. It scared him; what had he done in that time? Was it good? Bad? Both? Would they take advantage of him?

Bill glanced at him and said, “Since you’re not saying anything, I’m guessing it upset you, huh?”

“Do what?” Sam’s eyes widened. Did he say something out loud?

“What you dreamed, or thought you dreamed,” Bill clarified.

Oh. “Umm, well, it was more…” He struggled for the right words. “It was bizarre. One moment I was watching you drive away from my apartment, the next…” He closed his eyes as he recalled the pain that suffused his entire upper body and face. “Well, it wasn’t very pleasant.”

“I see,” Bill frowned. He had slowed the truck’s speed when they entered Jericho’s city limits. It was late afternoon, almost evening, and most people were probably at home having dinner with their families. The streets were empty.

Sam nodded. “Was I ever hurt there? At my apartment?” he asked.

“Well, not unless you count that little mishap with moving your furniture out. Broke your recliner toting it down the stairs, but it was on its last leg by the looks of it.”

“Yeah, that thing was shitty.” He grasped at the change of subject, needing to take his mind off of his dream or memory or whatever it had been. “When did we, um, decide to move in together?”

“You know I can’t tell you the specifics,” Bill replied. He flicked on his turn signal before taking a right onto Flora Street. “I’m not really sure I should have said anything about the recliner.”

“I hate this!” Sam said, banging his fists on his thighs. “I can’t ask anything because people can’t or won’t answer me fully, I’m afraid to ask certain things because I don’t know what they know—” He cut himself off and angrily stared out the window. Fuck. Apparently it went both ways.

Bill pulled into the front of a small, one-story house. It had a covered porch and seemed to have been built in the mid ‘70s. A swing at one end of the porch moved gently back and forth in a slight breeze. Bill cut off the ignition and sat for a moment, watching the wind blow old leaves across the porch.

“I don’t like it either, Sam,” he said quietly. “But I’m on your side, OK?” He turned to face Sam fully, and Sam’s breath caught at the emotion in Bill’s eyes. “And I’ll _be_ by your side through all of this. Don’t be afraid to ask me anything. I’ll answer as much as I can, and I won’t lie to you—I’ll never lie to you. I promise.”

* * *

_They’d been dating for over two and a half months. Sam still had his walls up, and he was, quite frankly, surprised that Bill put up with him for it. Every time Bill tried to hold his hand or wrap his arm around him, Sam would tense. It was just too soon! He’d been hurt too badly. If only he could tell Bill why!_

_Sam had tried to let go of the past, he really did. He’d almost done it once, but it had also almost destroyed him again. He didn’t want Bill to be a rebound; Bill didn’t deserve that, because Bill was a great guy._

_They’d just had yet another amazing date. Bill had taken him to a steakhouse in Colby, and Sam had been surprised at the size of cuts offered. He was debating on just getting a small sirloin when Bill ordered the largest steak on the menu, indicating to the waiter that he and Sam would share it._

_Yeah, Bill was always surprising him. Which made Sam like him more and more._

_He was doomed._

_Bill walked him up to his apartment, brushing his hand against his, and a warm feeling tingled up Sam’s spine. Should he? But what if…?_

_Oh, the hell with it!_

_“I had a nice time tonight, Bill. Thanks.” Sam leaned over and pecked Bill’s cheek. “Maybe next time we can share a dessert.”_

_He smiled at the astounded look on Bill’s face and turned away. However, he pursed his lips and turned back._

_“No, not good enough.” He cupped his hands around the still shocked man’s face and drew him in for a deep kiss, closing his eyes when Bill’s arms wrapped around him._

_When the kiss ended, Sam opened his eyes and asked breathlessly, “Was that good enough?”_

_“More than,” Bill whispered, gazing at him warmly._

_“Promise?”_

_“Promise.”_

* * *

“Bill?” Sam asked, feeling his face turn red.

Bill began to unbuckle his seatbelt. “Let’s go inside. It’s not good to sit out in this heat.”

“No! Wait!” Sam stopped him. “I, um…” Sam took a deep breath. “Did I ever tell you about Tiffany?”


	4. Chapter 4

Bill had had a feeling that this was going to come up. He should have prepared himself, but there had been so much going on. Now he was kicking himself for it at the worried, scared expression on Sam’s face.

“Yeah, Sam,” he answered. “I know about Tiffany.” He reached out when Sam covered his face. “Hey, don’t do that. It wasn’t your fault—”

Sam shook his head. “I-I know, but it’s still…” He inhaled deeply, his hands sliding down his cheeks to fall into his lap. “It’s just a handful of months ago for me, in my mind,” he said softly.

“We can talk about it,” Bill offered. That’s what they had done then; talked about it.

“Sure it’s allowed?” There was no sarcasm in his tone, but Bill could hear the hope in his voice.

“You’re telling the story, not me.”

“Telling the…?” Sam raised his head. “You want me to tell you what happened _again?_ ” he asked. He gave Bill an odd look. “But you already know! What’s the point?”

“Sam, you need to talk about it, and part of talking about it is telling someone what happened.”

“But I already _have…_ ”

Sam was getting frustrated again, and Bill didn’t want a repeat of what had happened at the hospital earlier. What could he say? What could he do?

“You did, Sam, you have told me. But”—Bill took Sam’s hands and held them within his own—”I think you need to again, considering what’s going on, don’t you?”

“This is so _weird,_ Bill.” Sam stared at their hands. Bill almost let go, thinking that Sam was referring to them, but Sam continued talking. “This is what I meant: What do other people know about me? What do I say or not say? What have I shared or not shared with them? My life right now is The Twilight Zone.”

Bill’s hands tightened around Sam’s. He wanted to pull the man across from him to his chest, hug him, comfort him, protect him. But he couldn’t do that! Sam didn’t see him that way, feel about him that way, not anymore. _No!_ he told himself. _Right now he doesn’t! He’ll get better! You’ll help him get better!_

“I won’t force you to tell me, Sam. You can talk to me about it when— _if_ —you want to.” He smiled to reassure him. “But I _will_ say that I don’t think that it’s your fault, OK? It was her decision, and it’s her loss, my gain.”

* * *

Why was Bill so stubborn about being so understanding and patient with him? No one had ever been that way with him before! Was this why he'd taken the chance with Bill and decided to date him, to kiss him? Because Bill was different?

Different from her?

“Sh-She left me.”

Bill, who had been in the process of releasing his hands, stopped and gave him his full attention. “I’m listening, Sam.”

“I came home, after a long day of work. The house was quiet, and I assumed she went to pick up her son from school. There was a note on the kitchen table.” Sam turned his head and stared at the house. “We’d apparently grown apart because we were too different, and she thought doing it this way would be less painful.”

He laughed dully. “Why didn’t I see it? Was she lonely? Did I not tell her I cared about her enough? Spend enough time with her? Treat Johnny differently, even though he was like the kid I never had?”

“I had to leave,” he said, turning back to Bill, whose eyes were full of concern. Sam sniffed, discovering that he was on the verge of crying. “I had no way of contacting her to ask her all these questions. None of our mutual friends knew what to say. I just packed up and left, chose a direction and drove.”

“And ended up in Jericho,” Bill said when Sam went quiet.

Despite himself, a small smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s lips as the memory of their first meeting flitted through his mind. “Well, after experiencing the ‘hospitality’ of New Bern, anyway.”

“See?” Bill said. “My gain.” He gently retracted his hands. “Feeling OK now?”

He did, actually. He was still a little sad, maybe he always would be, but perhaps this is what his “fresh start” needed to really get going. “Yeah, I think I do. Thank you, Bill.”

“You’re welcome, Sam.” Bill glanced outside. “Ready to get settled? The sun is just about down, and it’s a damn furnace in here.”

* * *

Bill took Sam’s elbow and carefully helped him up the steps to the porch. Sam was grateful for Bill’s attentiveness. He was so giving, and all Sam had done was complain and taken! Bill was truly a patient man.

He stood aside while Bill unlocked the door, then grinned widely when the jingle of a bell and a loud “meow!” followed.

“Is that… Is that _Cheeto?_ ” he said, nudging past Bill to walk inside and kneel on the floor. A large, orange tabby cat scurried towards him, rubbing against his hand.

* * *

_**People suck,** Sam thought irritably as he exited the store. It had been one of those nights, where he and Gabi had taken the brunt of something that was beyond their control. The credit/debit card readers had gone down, so they’d only been able to accept cash. Many of the customers had rolled their eyes and muttered some rude comments directed at the store clerks, and Sam had had to bite back some choice words of his own._

_Damn, was he glad that he got weekends off now. He’d been at the store for nearly a year now, and gained the trust of his coworkers and the store’s owner. It was hard for him to believe sometimes that Jericho had become home to him, and that he had friends here now._

_He checked his watch as he walked to the corner of the store. Bill was supposed to pick him up so they could have breakfast together. He smiled at the thought of his boyfriend; Bill was the main reason he had stayed in the small Kansas town. He never judged him, didn’t use his past to chastise him. And surprisingly, they seemed to compliment each other with their likes and dislikes._

_Sam had been right in coming here, even if it had been painful to start with._

_A small “meow” from below him interrupted his musings. He lowered his eyes to discover a small orange kitten, huddled next to a trash can._

_“Well, hello there. What are you doing here all alone?” Sam kneeled and held out his hand, smiling as the tiny thing first sniffed his fingers then licked them. It nuzzled up into his palm, still meowing loudly._

_“Are you hungry?” Sam curled his hand gently around it and stood up. “I don’t have anything, I’m sorry.” He turned it within his hands, noting that it was male. It started to purr quietly and he held it to his chest. “You’re really gentle; did someone abandon you, little guy?” he asked sadly._

_Bill’s truck turning into the store parking lot made him lift his head. He smiled when his boyfriend got out. “Hey,” he said._

_“Hey,” Bill replied. “Whatcha got there?” Bill looked down at the kitten. “Was he running around out here?”_

_“I think someone dropped him off here and left him,” Sam answered. “He’s hungry and wanting attention.”_

_Bill rubbed the kitten’s head lightly with his forefinger and it closed its eyes in contentment. “You gonna keep him?”_

_Sam sighed. “I can’t. My apartment doesn’t allow pets,” he said regretfully. “Does Jericho have a no-kill shelter?” he asked Bill hopefully._

_“Well…” Bill raised his eyes and met Sam’s. “I was kinda gonna mention this later, but…”_

_“Huh?” Sam scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “What are you talking about?”_

_Bill scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “We’ve been together for a while now, right? And you **hate** your apartment. It’s really small, drafty, and the insulation is shit.”_

_“Yeah, and?”_

_“And you want to keep him”—Bill pet the kitten once more—”and you can’t.”_

_Sam watched the kitten turn and meow at Bill. “Just spit it out, Bill.”_

_Bill brought his other hand up and curled it around Sam’s neck. “You want to move in together, babe?”_

* * *

The front door closing behind him startled Sam, and Cheeto bumped his head against his hand. Footsteps thumped along the floor before Bill sat beside them. “Glad to see that you remember our overlord,” he said brightly, scratching Cheeto behind an ear. “I think he missed us.”

Sam ran his hands over the cat’s back. “I just remembered who he was, then I remembered something else.” He turned his head and smiled at Bill’s expectant expression. “It was when you asked me to move in with you.”

“That makes perfect sense,” Bill replied. “So glad that I decided not to mention him to you.” He gave Cheeto a scratch under his chin. “Good kitty.”

“So we’ve lived here for three years?” Sam inquired. He turned his head about the living room. “And for some reason, my mind is telling me that it’s changed. Has it always looked this way?”

Bill hid a smile. “Not always. But that’s a conversation for later.” He groaned as he got back to his feet. “I’m gonna get your things from the truck, then pack up some stuff to take to Stanley’s.”

“Alright.” Sam watched him leave and turned back to Cheeto, who was purring contentedly. “Why is remembering you so easy while everything else is so hard, huh?” And why couldn’t he remember anything that happened _in between_ the memories? It was all so fragmented!

“I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom, OK Sam?” Bill said as he entered the house again. Sam looked over his shoulder to see Bill holding two small suitcases. “I, um, washed your clothes at the hotel I stayed at, so all you need to do is just, well, ya know.”

Sam stood and faced him. “I can do that myself,” he said. “And thanks, for washing my clothes and all that.”

“It was my turn to do them anyway,” Bill smiled. “But you’re welcome, and I don’t mind lugging it down the hallway for you. You should rest, think about what you want for dinner.”

Bill strode past him, and Sam frowned. No, he would do it himself!

He reached out and snatched one of the suitcases from Bill’s hand. He had no idea if it was his or not, but it didn’t really matter. Bill nearly toppled over, but caught his balance before whirling around and staring at him.

“Sam?” he asked carefully.

“I can do it myself,” Sam replied just as carefully.

* * *

Bill cursed himself inwardly. He’d overdone it, and he hadn’t meant to. Nurse Lexie had warned him not to coddle and be overly-protective. Sam needed to regain a sense of control in his life again, and being autonomous helped with that. Bill had only meant to be supportive, but apparently he was going about it the wrong way. It might be a good idea to ask one of Sam’s new therapists for guidance.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I shouldn’t have done that,” Bill apologized. He set the suitcase he was holding to the floor. “I won’t do it again.”

Sam looked from him down to the suitcase in his hand and back again. He then sighed and put it on the floor as well. “I’ll do it later. Can we… Can we have dinner together? I think I’m just hungry.”

Blinking at the abrupt change of subject and mood, Bill replied, “If that’s what you want, sure. What are you in the mood for?”

“As long as it’s not on a tray and covered with plastic, I don’t care.” Sam made his way to the kitchen—on his own, without asking for directions.

That simple fact almost made Bill’s heart burst with hope.

* * *

After a meal of bologna sandwiches and plain potato chips—”We haven’t bought groceries for the month yet,” Bill had explained—Sam stood in the living room, listening as Bill packed to stay at Stanley’s. He was still orienting himself with the house, and it just didn’t _feel_ right. It was like déjà vu, but it wasn’t at the same time.

And he was still contemplating on whether or not Bill should actually go to Stanley’s. Did he think that Bill would hurt him, or try anything with him? No, he really didn’t. From what he’d seen and remembered, Bill would rather himself get hurt than Sam. He always kept him out of harm’s way, made sure he was safe. Sam was also moved at how forgiving he was of his behavior from earlier.

He swept his eyes about the living room. For a house that was so small, right now it felt overwhelmingly large. Could he stay here by himself, even with a pet cat to keep him company most of the time?

“You OK? You look worried about something.” Sam moved his gaze to see Bill standing at the end of the hallway, a black duffel bag thrown over his shoulder.

“Just thinking about how big your— _our_ —house is gonna feel when it’s just me and the Cheesy Poof,” Sam said, a fake smile on his face.

Bill frowned, walking forward and tossing his bag on the couch. “And?”

Of course Bill would know when he was hiding something. “It feels _wrong_ here, Bill! I know I’ve been here before, like in your truck, but...but something isn’t right here. It’s throwing me off and I don’t like it!”

Crinkling his brow, Bill looked around himself, studying the room. His eyes landed on the couch and his face split with a wide smile. “Ah,” he said simply.

“‘Ah’ what?” Sam demanded.

Bill’s shoulders shook with a silent laugh. “I—” He held up a hand and shook his head. “No, I’m sorry Sam, but I can’t tell you about this one. But it’s OK, there’s nothing wrong. Everything is as it should be here.”

“OK, fine!” Sam threw his hands up in frustration. “But it’s still unnerving! I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep or get any rest feeling this way!” He turned around, placing a hand on his hip and running the other through his hair. “Bill, would you, uh… I mean, if it’s OK…”

“Sam, I can’t stay. I’m sorry.”

Sam closed his eyes and hung his head. “Oh, yeah. That’s what we agreed on to begin with. Sorry.”

“No, Sam.” A hand touched his shoulder and turned him around, and Sam met Bill’s tawny eyes. “Part of your recovery is learning to handle situations on your own, taking care of yourself without help from others. You can’t do that with me here all the time.”

“I don’t think I can _be_ alone all the time, Bill,” Sam whispered. He had been alone for much too long after Tiffany left him. Having to go through that again, with what he was going through right now… It terrified him.

Bill gripped both his shoulders. “I put my and Stanely’s numbers into your new cell phone. You call whenever you want, I don’t care what time it is. I will come over here if you need me, and I will visit you every day. You won’t be alone, OK?”

Sam nodded shakily. “O-OK. I’m sorry, Bill.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. Now, I’m gonna head out. Get some rest, OK?” Bill stepped away and grabbed the duffel bag from the couch.

Sam watched him head towards the door, and without even thinking about it, he followed behind him. When Bill opened the door to leave the house, Sam stopped him with a quick peck on the cheek.

Bill froze and stared at him. “Sam?”

“Umm…” Sam’s eyes went wide in shock at what he had done. “I don’t know why I did that.”

A small smile graced Bill's lips as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Sam.”

* * *

The entire drive to the Richmond farm, Bill fought with the urge to return home and stay with Sam like he wanted him to.

For one short, brief moment, he had thought that Sam’s memories had returned.

Sam always, _always,_ gave him a kiss on the cheek whenever he left the house to go somewhere. It didn’t matter if it was to work or just out to go buy some milk—it was Sam’s thing, a little ritual of his. “Something for you to remember me by,” he always joked.

He had forced himself not to show how hurt he was at Sam's stunned expression after the kiss. As he’d walked to his truck, he’d wondered if he _should_ stay, if it would help Sam remember faster.

But he couldn’t, and it nearly broke his heart.

Anyone else, and Bill would ignore what the doctor had told him. Would do what he felt in his gut. But his hard-headedness couldn’t stand up to what he felt for Sam. He’d do anything for that man, absolutely anything. And right now, he wanted Sam to get better.

Once he arrived at the Richmond farmhouse and knocked on its front door, Bill knew he was in need of a friend. The minute Stanley saw his face his friend said, “Give me your stuff and meet me on the back porch.”

Bill didn’t argue. He walked through the house and exited out the back door, plopping down on the porch swing. It was warm out, the evening insects making themselves known. The moon was peeking out from between a few clouds, so it wasn’t too dark. Not that Bill cared, considering his mood.

There was a creak as the back door opened, then something cold was pressed into his hand. “Here,” Stanley said.

“Thanks.” Bill took a swig of the drink. Root beer. Good. Bill wasn’t much on alcohol.

“Sam OK?”

Straight to the point. He appreciated that. “I think he is.” Bill looked out over the backyard as Stanley sat beside him. “He asked me to stay with him, but I can’t for now.”

Stanley eyed him. “You feeling guilty about that?”

“I’m feeling guilty because I _want_ to,” Bill said, turning to him. “I’m feeling guilty because I...because I’m…” He took three or four measured swallows from his drink. “He’s Sam, and he’s remembering us, but at the same time, he thinks of us as strangers.”

He contemplated his drink, wondering if he should have asked for an actual beer or not. “You know that for a short moment before I left, I had actually thought that he remembered everything? Then right after, like a punch to the face, it turned out that he hadn’t? Fucking hurt like hell, man.” He covered his face with his hand. “Still fucking hurts like hell.”

“Bill.” Stanley’s arm wrapped around his shoulders. “You said that he’s remembering you. Both of you. He’ll keep doing that. You told me that’s why you brought him back. He hasn’t even been here one night yet.”

“I know that,” Bill rasped. “It’s just hard, Stanley. I feel alone, without my Sam…”

* * *

“Alright, Cheeto. Got you fed and taken care of.” Sam placed his hands on his hips. He’d been keeping himself busy since Bill left, adrenalin surging through his system from what he had done. He’d kissed Bill! Well, it had been on his cheek, but he’d still kissed him! Why had he done that, and why had it felt so natural and normal?

And why had Bill looked so downtrodden while walking to his truck? Did he feel guilty for leaving Sam alone?

Sam listened to Cheeto munching happily on his cat food. He’d known exactly where it had been, along with the litter box. He was finding that little things were coming back to him rather easily, and it excited him.

He had explored the bathroom, smiling at the way his and Bill’s toiletries were all jumbled up together. There was a deep blue towel and a bright red one, and he guessed the blue one was Bill’s, since red was his favorite color.

The bedroom he’d been saving until bedtime, which it now was. He wasn’t sure what to expect—he’d never lived with a man before. He’d been out as bi since high school, but had never had a serious boyfriend. He’d never stayed in one place long enough for a serious relationship of any kind, actually.

Well, except for _her,_ and Tiffany.

And apparently Bill.

He locked the front door, turned off all the lights. Made one last check on Cheeto, and, after grabbing his suitcase, finally entered the bedroom.

“Wow…” he whispered.

It wasn’t what he expected.

The bed was giant—king-sized, and covered with a chocolate brown comforter. Sam guessed that his tendency to sprawl annoyed Bill. There was... _one_ dresser. Huh, interesting. Across from the bed was a medium-sized closet, and Sam could plainly tell that it was divided equally between him and Bill.

His eyes went back to the bed and noticed that a pair of boxer briefs and a plain white t-shirt had been laid out upon it. Beside them was a photo album. Curious, he set the suitcase next to the dresser and walked over and sat down on the bed, going “Oomf!” at how plush and comfy it was. He and Bill must have gone all-out on this bed.

He picked up the album and opened it, seeing pictures of himself and Bill displayed on each and every page. Photos of them at the lake, at the ranch, on what looked like camping trips. In this house, at a...football stadium? He peered closer; he had on a Denver Broncos jersey.

_Huh,_ he thought. _We went to an NFL game._ He pursed his lips in thought. Was that what they were doing in Denver, going to a football game? But it was summer...

He continued flipping through the pictures, hoping that he’d recall another memory, but his eyes started to feel heavy. It had been a long, stressful day. He needed to go to bed; Bill would be coming back early in the morning to help him set up appointments with his new specialists.

Placing the photo album on the nightstand, Sam smiled at Cheeto jumping up beside him. “You gonna keep me company?” he asked, rubbing the cat along his back. He stood and changed into the clothes Bill had thoughtfully left out for him, then crawled onto the side of the bed nearest the door before turning off the lamp.

He turned his head sideways on the pillow, closing his eyes. He’d get through this night, and the ones after. One day at a time. He could do this.

Taking a deep breath, he prepared to drift off to sleep.

* * *

_“You smell good. Do you wear cologne?”_

_Bill wrinkled his brow. “I **what?** ” He ran his hand down Sam’s back, kissing his neck. “No, I’m not allowed to because of work.”_

_Sam closed his eyes at the touch. They were in his car in front of Bill’s house, sharing kisses. It had become a thing as of late. “Then why do you smell like you do?” He ran his hands through Bill’s hair. “Is it your shampoo?”_

_“I just use whatever’s on sale.” Bill pulled him closer. “Mmm, Sam…” He nipped at his earlobe. “Mmm…”_

_“Oh!” Sam’s fingers tightened in Bill’s hair. “Please, Bill…”_

_“Again?” Bill whispered huskily. “We’re not out by the lake this time, ya know.” He dragged his hand lower down Sam’s back and skimmed the top of his jeans. “We should go inside if you want **that.** ” Bill breathed into Sam’s ear. “Or more, maybe?”_

_Sam pulled back and licked his lips. “You mean it?” He and Bill had only fooled around in the few months after their first kiss. They’d yet to sleep together. “We don’t have to… I mean, I **want** to…”_

_Bill kissed him. “So do I.”_

_He wanted to, too? But… “Wait, Bill.” Sam put a hand to Bill’s chest. “I-I need to tell you something first.”_

_“What? You’re not a virgin, are you?” Bill teased._

_“Heh, that would actually be easier for me to tell you,” Sam said. His eyes went pained. “I need to tell you **why** I came to be in Jericho.”_

_Bill rubbed his thumb in small circles on Sam’s skin. “You did, Sam. You said that you didn’t like New Bern.”_

_Sam shook his head. “No, **before** that. I-I lived somewhere else.” In fits and starts, he explained Tiffany and Rocky Road. Bill listened, and at the end, he was holding Sam tightly to him. “I didn’t want us to be falling into bed together without you knowing about all that,” Sam said softly after he finished._

_“I guess it’s only fair to tell you that my ex left me a ‘Dear John’ letter five years ago. Ran off with the son of the salt mine manager,” Bill replied in a quiet voice against Sam’s hair. Sam pulled away, gazing at him with sympathy. “Oh, it’s all right. We had grown apart long before that. I was actually relieved. I hadn’t known how to tell him that it was over. Just wish that he had had the decency to tell me that he was screwing someone else.”_

_“He was a jerk to do that to you,” Sam said. “I’d never do something like that.”_

_Bill’s eyes went soft. “Thank you, Sam. I wouldn’t either.” He pressed their lips together gently. “You still want to come inside?”_

_Sam shivered. “Y-Yes, please…”_

* * *

Sam sat up abruptly, blinking into the darkness of the bedroom. How had he not expected this? Of course he and Bill would have been—

Wait. He reached for his pillow and took a tentative sniff. It was faint, but the same scent from his memory was definitely there. This must be Bill’s side of the bed, Bill’s pillow.

He laid back down, holding the pillow close to his face. It felt right to, for some reason. Did he sleep here on his nights off when Bill had to work? If so, when had he started sleeping on the inside of the bed? He hated being so close to the window!

He buried his head into the pillow and sighed, smelling Bill again. He wondered if Bill did this to his pillow, then decided that he probably did. And he bet that when they were together, they shared one, or one of them used the other as a pillow.

Was he the pillow? No, it had to be Bill. He was more “muscly.” Sam was too wiry for that, and he liked to cuddle. Oh, did he like to cuddle...

He wished he had someone to cuddle with right now.

It was then that he realized his memories were apparently going to jump around, not happen in the order that they occurred. Well, wasn’t _that_ just peachy? And so very annoying.

He closed his eyes, reluctantly accepting it as yet another difficult thing for him to deal with. Just what he needed, on top of everything else.

“Meow.”

He smiled softly, some of his negativity fading at the sound of his orange feline. “Aww, come on Cheeto. You’ve been alone for a while, huh?” Sam wiggled his fingers and felt a warm, fuzzy head. “I’m sorry. I won’t go anywhere, OK?”

Cheeto responded with a soft purr, and Sam allowed himself to drift off to sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Sam stepped out of the shower, his skin red as a lobster. It was the first shower he’d had in what felt like forever; he’d only been allowed baths at the hospital because of his injury. He had to be careful because of the stitches in his head—which were due to be removed in a few days—but damn did it feel good to just stand under the water!

He shaved next, not liking the brand of shaving cream he found at first. However, upon using it he discovered that it was actually rather decent. So his choice in brands had changed! Interesting.

Getting dressed was interesting too. Rummaging through the closet he found that a lot of his clothes that he’d brought with him from Rocky Road were pushed way in the back, as if he didn’t wear them much anymore. Well, that made sense he supposed. They _would_ be kinda old and outdated after four years, and were associated with some unhappy memories. He chose a t-shirt and picked out a pair of jeans from his side of the closet before going to the front of the house to give Cheeto his breakfast.

He next made himself some coffee, smiling at the fact that his favorite brand was in the cabinet. He turned on the coffee maker then went to the living room, trying to think of what to do while he waited for Bill to arrive.

That odd feeling from the night before hit him again. What _was_ it? He turned his head slowly about the room in an attempt to find anything out of the ordinary. When they landed on the couch, his heart rate increased.

* * *

_“Ride my fingers, Sam…”_

_Sam dropped his forehead onto Bill’s shoulder. “I-I’m trying, Bill. I don’t want to fall… AH!” Bill had sprung into action the moment they had entered the house. He’d procured a condom and lube from nowhere, and before Sam knew it, they were both on the couch naked, him straddling Bill while his boyfriend turned him into a writhing and moaning mess._

_Bill always surprised him._

_“I won’t let you fall. Here.” Bill used his free hand and moved both of Sam’s to grip the green couch on either side of his head. “How’s that?”_

_Sam ground his hips down on Bill’s fingers. “Oh! OH!” Sam sucked on the skin of Bill’s shoulder, making the man groan his name. “Deeper, Bill, deeper!”_

_Bill twisted his fingers, plunging them further inside of Sam. “Uh!” They’d never gotten completely naked like this before, only hands and fingers down the other’s pants, a nice, slow blowjob, and sometimes mutual handjobs. But this...this was fucking fantastic! “Bill!”_

_The couch started to rock forwards and backwards, and Sam halted. “W-We should turn,” he panted. “We’ll knock the couch over.” He bit his lip and tossed his head back as Bill crooked his fingers. “AH FUCK!”_

_“Don’t worry about it.” Bill kept working his fingers, rubbing them firmly over and over Sam’s prostate. “Damn you make the hottest sounds, Sam.”_

_Sam gasped for air. “I’ll come if y-you don’t stop, B-Bill…” He groaned at the wet sound of Bill’s fingers leaving him. “N-Never took you to be so naughty, Officer Koehler.”_

_Bill rolled a condom over his thick, throbbing cock then drizzled a generous amount of lube upon it. His cock glistened under the lights from the ceiling fan, and Sam licked his lips at the sight. “Never said I wasn’t.” He held Sam’s gaze while he spread the lube slowly up and down his shaft, and Sam couldn’t wait to have it inside him._

_When Bill placed his hands on his waist, Sam eagerly positioned himself over Bill’s cock. He leaned down and kissed him, open-mouthed and oh so dirty. He needed this, this intimate, pleasurable connection with someone that he was coming to care about, someone he was learning to trust and depend on. Someone who might give him a reason to try again._

_Maybe._

_He slowly slid down, his and Bill’s cries of pleasure muffled through their kiss. Bill’s cock was spreading him wide, and it was **so damn good.** His own cock was leaking precum profusely onto Bill’s stomach, and the more Bill filled him, the more he produced. _

_Bill broke their kiss when he entered Sam fully, and they stared at each other as Sam’s body adjusted to Bill. Sam was so full, so stretched! He’d be feeling this for days!_

_“Damn, Bill. H-How— **Oooo,** ” he moaned loudly when Bill flexed his cocked within his ass. He rested the side of his face against Bill’s and panted. “Shit, Bill!”_

_“How what?” Bill asked, massaging his hips._

_Sam squeezed his eyes shut, trying to get his thoughts in order. How was Bill keeping himself so calm? He lifted his head and blinked wearily at his lover’s face._

_Bill’s forehead was beading with sweat, his lips pressed firmly together, jaw clenched. Oh, he was having trouble keeping himself together too by the looks of it._

_Perfect._

_Sam kissed him gently. “I was going to ask how you kept that monster cock of yours hidden whenever you got a boner in public.” He brushed his lips along Bill’s jawline. “What do you do? Do you strut around and show all the other guys how pathetically small they are?” He breathed in his ear. “Or do you go to the bathroom and rub one out?”_

_A strangled groan issued from Bill’s lips. His heated gaze caught Sam’s and his fingers dug almost painfully into his hips. “You’re asking for it, Sam,” he grit out._

_In answer, Sam squeezed himself around Bill’s cock and raised an eyebrow._

_Bill smirked and lifted him up, slamming him down hard in response._

_“AH!” Sam arched his back, his mouth falling open. “AH! AH! AH!”_

_His lover set a hard, maddening pace, thrusting deep into him over and over. Each slide of his cock punched against his prostate, and Sam held tightly to the couch to keep himself from falling over backward. Bill’s hands kept him in place, shoving his cock up inside him as he brought him down onto it._

_Their breathing grew hard, sweat flowed from their pores. The couch rocked back and forth like before. But neither were paying attention, both focused on their pleasure._

_Sam’s cock slapped against his belly, precum splattering everywhere. He’d never been fucked this hard before. He might even come untouched, and he loved it when he was able to do that!_

_The couch started to tilt precariously, but the two lovers were still lost within each other. When it toppled over, they shouted each other’s names in alarm. A sharp “CRACK!” was heard, followed by their heavy breathing._

_Sam laid sprawled over Bill, cushions scattered about them. He used his hands to raise himself to look at the man below him. “Are you all right?” he asked in concern._

_Bill returned his expression. “Are you?”_

_“Y-Yeah.” Sam touched his face. “Damn, Bill. I think we broke your couch.” He started to laugh, dropping his forehead on Bill’s wet, sweaty chest._

_His eyes flew open when Bill wrapped his arms around him and rolled him over. “Let’s not let a little broken furniture ruin our fun.” He lifted Sam’s right leg and threw it over his shoulder while splaying his hand on the inside of his left thigh to spread him wide open. “Wanna finish?”_

_“I ain’t sayin’ no.” He shouted when Bill roughly pushed into him and immediately began to pound his prostate “YES! YES! YES!”_

_He came not long after, untouched as he had hoped. He whined at the continued assault on his insides, then choked at Bill’s hand on his still pulsing cock, milking his orgasm. Bill came soon after, pressing himself against Sam’s ass until his balls touched his skin._

_Bill lowered Sam’s leg, then reached down and lifted Sam up to hold him close. They kissed one another softly, and Sam felt a stirring in his chest._

_Yeah, maybe._

_Just maybe…_

* * *

He stumbled, panting from the intense memory. He stared at the couch that was now a deep shade of maroon and most definitely _not_ broken. Damn, he and Bill must have demolished the hell out of that couch!

Biting his lip, Sam closed his eyes. Shit, he’d _never_ been taken that way before. Who would’ve thought that the kind, friendly, overly-helpful smalltown deputy sheriff would have such a sex drive? Sam considered himself to be a devil between the sheets—and he’d been told that he was rather nicely endowed too—but Bill put him to shame.

A knock sounded from the front door, and Sam opened his eyes, exhaling harshly. His face felt hot, and he knew that he was half-hard. Shit! He tugged his t-shirt further down, glad that he had worn jeans.

He took deep, slow breaths on his way to the door, hoping that it would help with the flush in his face. When he opened the door, Bill greeted him with a grin and two foil-covered plates.

“Want some breakfast? Stanley made pancakes and sausage for us.”

Sam’s stomach growled. He _loved_ pancakes and sausage. “That sounds incredible.” He opened the door wider. “You, um, don’t have to knock. It’s your house too, ya know.” He turned and padded his way to the kitchen.

He grabbed some silverware and on instinct took out an ugly, bright orange mug from the cabinet. “Coffee?” he asked, cocking his head towards the coffeemaker.

Bill, having placed the food on the table, looked between him and the mug. “I’d love some. Thank you.” He smiled. “And I know it’s my house too; I just don’t want to alarm you by just walking on in.”

Sam nodded. That made sense. “I didn’t think about that. Thanks.” He filled the mug—a small voice in his head telling him that Bill liked it black—and brought it and the silverware to the table. Bill uncovered the plates and Sam’s stomach growled once again as the aroma of the food wafted in the air.

“Don’t wait on me,” Bill said. “Eat up!” He handed Sam the syrup.

Sam covered everything on his plate with it. “I will.” He dug in, moaning at the taste. “Ohmahgawd!”

* * *

Bill kept his eyes on his plate. As usual, Sam was...enthusiastic about his food. But the almost erotic sounds made Bill realize just how long they’d been apart, how long it had been since they’d really touched each other. They were very tactile with one another, whether in private or in public. And especially in bed.

He had been _so lonely_ the past several nights, and last night it had been even worse. Sam had been at home, in their bed, and Bill couldn’t be with him.

It was almost unbearable.

But his talk with Stanley had helped. Sam would remember more, he knew he would! Maybe it wouldn’t be too long before he could hold him in his arms again...

Sam finished his meal first like always, then sat in his chair and sipped his own cup of coffee. He didn’t say much, just waited patiently as Bill went on eating. Bill guessed that something was on his mind, but decided to let Sam bring it up himself.

Once he was done, Bill gathered their dishes and rinsed them in the sink. As he was about to put them in the dishwasher, Sam stopped him.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “You brought me breakfast, it’s only fair that I cleanup.”

“It’s actually my turn,” Bill said. “So, it’s all right.” He placed the plates inside along with their forks and mugs. “I promise next time it’s all yours,” he winked, closing the dishwasher door.

“You keep saying ‘turns,’” Sam said. “Do we switch out household chores or something? Which thing is my turn next?”

Bill looked out the window over the kitchen sink. “That.”

Sam copied him. “Oh,” he said at the sight of the yard. “Fun.”

“It won’t need it for a few days. I’ll cover you, considering,” Bill said quickly. “You have a doctor’s excuse after all.”

“I should at least do something, though,” Sam frowned.

Bill thought for a moment, not sure what to say. “The doctor doesn’t want you pushing yourself too hard just yet. I guess easy things?”

“Like loading the dishwasher? Laundry?” Sam replied with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Bill laughed. “OK, then; I’ll leave the ‘easy things’ to you for the time being. Not that there will be a lot of them to do since I won’t be here all the time.”

Sam averted his eyes. “Yeah…”

Bill wanted to hug him, comfort him, let him know that it wouldn’t be this way forever. But what would Sam do if he did?

“Hey Sam?” he asked gently.

“Yeah?” Sam kept his gaze turned away from him.

“Can I hug you?”

Sam’s entire face nearly crumpled as his now relieved eyes met Bill’s. “ _Please…_ ”

* * *

Oh. _Oh._ Bill’s arms were so warm around him, so secure. He held him close, rubbed softly at his back. He’d hugged him at the hospital, but this hug...this hug was so much _more_ than that. Sam understood now what he meant to Bill, and what Bill must mean to him. He had known it on some deeper level when he had woken from his coma. He just wished he had figured it out sooner!

“Bill,” he whispered into Bill’s shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“I remember us breaking your couch.”

Bill’s hand stilled on his back. “Which time?” There was a smile in Bill’s voice.

Sam pulled away, startled. “Which _time?_ ” he asked in disbelief. “You mean there were _more_ broken couches after the green one?!”

“Ah, _that_ time.” Bill’s eyes took on a faraway look. “That was an amazing night.”

Against his will, Sam pressed himself close to Bill once again. “It sure as hell was.” He sighed. “I want to remember more, Bill. About us.”

Bill tightened his arms around him. “I want you to remember everything, Sam.” He leaned his cheek on the side of Sam’s head. “So damn much.”

* * *

_Sam had been giving Bill the silent treatment all day._

_He stomped through the living room on the way to the kitchen, sighing inwardly at Bill stretched out on the couch. Of course he would be acting like everything was all hunky-dory._

_Sam went to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door to stare at its contents. Yep, nothing in there. He huffed, shutting the appliance’s door and turning to the cabinets. He then frowned, knowing that there’d be nothing there either._

_UGH! He was so irritated he couldn’t focus on anything else!_

_“If you’re that hungry we can order something.”_

_He slowly turned to see Bill standing in the kitchen doorway. “It’s not that, Bill.” Sam rubbed at his temples. “Not that at all.”_

_“Is something wrong?” Bill asked. “You’ve been quiet all day. I don’t understand—”_

_“Don’t understand what?” Sam said, cutting him off. “You knew that I had to work a double last night, yet decided it was just fine to run the washer and dryer while I was trying to sleep. The bedroom shares a **wall** with the utility room, Bill!”_

_“I…” Bill looked away. “It’s a habit. I’ve been washing laundry on Saturday mornings for years now.”_

_Sam folded his arms and leaned against the sink. He’d been spending his weekends off at Bill’s for a good while now. It was routine for them to keep track of the other’s work schedules for when he stayed over. However, Sam supposed that something like this would have happened eventually. “Yeah, I know, Bill.”_

_“Look, Sam,” Bill began, walking towards Sam. “I didn’t mean to be an inconsiderate asshole. I didn’t mean to forget. I hang on to order and consistency in my life to keep me grounded.” He stopped next to Sam and took his hand. “I guess I needed someone to jumble things up a bit,” he smiled._

_Well, damn. How could he stay angry at Bill after **that?** Sam wrapped his arms around Bill’s neck and nuzzled his nose. “Yeah, I’m pretty good at that, aren’t I?”_

_Bill kissed him softly. “Damn good.” He touched their foreheads together. “Am I forgiven?” he asked hopefully._

_Sam raised an eyebrow in mock contemplation. “Well—”_

_His stomach gave a loud, rumbling growl._

_Bill chuckled. “Is that your stomach answering for you?”_

_Grinning, Sam replied, “Maybe.”_

_“I hope it’s not saying ‘I hate you.’”_

_Sam looked deeply into Bill’s eyes. No, he didn’t hate Bill. He could never hate him. Bill had made his life so happy, had helped him to make friends, had given him the strength and courage to make Jericho his home._

_Bill **was** his home._

_“Nah.” Sam kissed Bill gently. “It loves you.”_

_Bill’s eyes went round. Sam started to pull away, thinking, **Too soon. Dammit, too soon,** but stopped when Bill smiled warmly and pulled him tightly against his body. “Just your stomach?” he asked, his voice catching a little._

_Relief flooding through him, Sam cradled Bill’s face in his hands. “All of me.” He drew Bill’s face forward to kiss him deeply. “ **ALL** of me loves you…”_

_“All of me loves you too, Sam.” Bill crushed their lips together. “So damn much…”_

* * *

Bill was at a loss. Sam had gotten that distant look in his eyes, and Bill had smiled and continued to hold him. Another memory, which Bill had hoped was an important one. However, Sam had started to cry, and Bill didn’t know what to do.

Knowing that they couldn’t just stand in the middle of the kitchen, Bill made a swift decision and picked Sam up in his arms. A part of him hated that Sam was unaware of him doing so—Sam had always thought Bill’s ability to “tote him around” was sexy—but right now he was mostly focused on getting Sam somewhere safe and comfortable.

The bedroom. He walked quickly and carefully from the kitchen to their room, laying Sam on the bed. He glanced around and grabbed the blanket that was always folded at the end of the bed. He placed it over Sam, who was still crying softly.

“Sam, shh. Come on, babe. Please, are you with me? It’s OK. You’re home. I’m here.” Bill sat next to him, holding his hand and rubbing his knuckles with his thumb. “Please don’t cry.”

Sam’s eyes slowly opened and found Bill’s. “You love me,” he said.

Bill smiled. “Yes, I do.” His heart flip-flopped when Sam squeezed his hand. “Sam?”

“And I-I love you too?”

It had been a question, not a statement. _Almost,_ he thought. _He’s almost there, my Sam._ His eyes misted over, and he nodded. “As many times as you’ve told me, you do. Yeah.”

A new wave of tears fell from Sam’s eyes. “I feel it, Bill. I just don’t know _how._ ”

“Please don’t cry.” Bill crawled onto the bed and stretched out beside him. Amnesia or not, he just couldn’t bear to see Sam cry. “Shh…”

Sam turned and curled up into him. “I’m sorry. My memories… They’re floating all over my brain and they don’t make sense. They don’t...don’t _connect._ They’re like LEGOS that don’t want to fit together.”

Bill wrapped his arms around him and Sam moved closer. “Bill, I want to be myself again. I like what I remember.” He took a shuddering breath. “I don’t like having a swiss cheese memory.”

* * *

Sam knew he was trying to hide his fear and anxiety with bland humor. It’s what he always did. But Bill was listening, he was holding him, and oh! Sam wanted to stay here forever.

The love that he felt for him… He began to understand it more. It still confused him, loving someone because you remembered it. But if he remembered everything, it would all fall into place.

He just had to fill in those damn blanks first!

“You _are_ yourself, Sam. You haven’t changed,” Bill whispered into his hair.

“What?” Sam raised his head and caught his breath. Their faces were mere inches from one another. He coughed and pulled away slightly. “Bill, I hardly remember anything from the last four ye—”

Bill stopped him with a finger to his lips, surprising Sam with the action. “ _No,_ you are still the same Sam Dobbs that I met and befriended on Main Street. The same Sam Dobbs that asked me out on a date.” He removed his finger and touched Sam’s cheek. “The same Sam Dobbs that refuses to make the bed and hang up his wet towels from the floor.”

Sam surged forward and kissed him, unable to help himself. Bill tensed for one second, then deepened the kiss. They tilted their heads, slanting their lips, and Sam moaned when Bill teased open his mouth with his tongue.

They hadn’t kissed like this in his memories. Those kisses had been firey and fueled by lust. This kiss, it was full of longing, want, heartache.

And love. So much love.

Sam tried to pull Bill on top of him, but Bill broke the kiss abruptly. “No, Sam,” he panted. “You’re still recovering from the accident. And-And I don’t feel right…” His eyes went pained and troubled. “Please don’t get angry with me.”

He wasn’t angry, not really. Frustrated, yes, but he understood. His chest had gotten a little better, but it still hurt if he wasn’t careful. And he didn’t exactly know what would happen if he got too, well, _frisky._

Bill was right too. Sam might be the same, but he was still missing major aspects of their relationship. It was important for him to know every single one. It touched Sam, Bill not wanting to unintentionally take advantage of him.

“Of course, Bill.” He reached up and played with the buttons on Bill’s shirt. “Think we’ll be OK taking a mid-morning nap? I’m kinda wiped.”

“I think that’s safe.” Bill laid on his back and Sam, happy to discover that Bill was indeed the “pillow,” placed his head upon his chest.

“Thank you, Bill,” he whispered.

“You never have to,” Bill replied.


	6. Chapter 6

Sam’s trust in Bill increased significantly over the next few weeks. Bill accompanied him to the doctor’s office for the removal of his stitches—all seventeen of them—and endured the painful grip of Sam’s hand during the entire procedure. They were able to set up his appointment schedule very easily and Bill even set up reminders on Sam’s cellphone to practice his at-home exercises.

Through it all, Sam also recalled more memories. He remembered going on a camping trip with Bill, where’d they—in Sam’s opinion—made love quite passionately beside a campfire. It had been their first anniversary, and Bill had wanted it to be in a place where they most definitely wouldn’t be disturbed. They’d stopped by a roadside shop on their way there, and it was where the ugly orange mug that Bill used every morning had apparently been purchased. Bill must have kept it out of nostalgia.

He'd also remembered more arguments and disagreements. Bill sometimes lost his temper, but Sam had one to match it. They'd be frustrated and annoyed at each other for a while—refusing to give in—but eventually a look or a sad smile would break it, and all would be forgiven. It's just how they worked.

There were little snippets of memories as well. Sitting with Bill having lunch, walking into the police station to give Bill a quick wave, grabbing groceries at Gracie’s, smiling sleepily as Bill got into bed after returning from work.

And there were still those disturbing “blips.” Sam thought of mentioning them to Bill, but Bill worried about him enough already. He also didn’t understand what they were exactly. He still needed to sort them out, but they were so broken up, spread out. They made him anxious, and he didn’t like dwelling upon them.

Sam was also healing physically. He was able to watch television without it hurting his eyes and head, and he was finally able to sleep on his stomach. He’d been overjoyed the first time he discovered that it wasn’t painful anymore to do so.

Now if only his brain would catch up…

* * *

“When will my car be fixed?” Sam asked one day after returning from therapy. It had been a good month since the accident. “I’m starting to think that it was pretty damaged.”

Bill pursed his lips as he sat down next to him and Cheeto on the couch, the cat purring happily in Sam’s lap. “Joe had to order some parts, and since your car isn’t exactly all that common, well, he’s having to search and make a lotta calls. But he’s making progress, don’t worry,” he assured when Sam’s eyes went wide.

“I-I hadn’t thought of that. Those types of things _would_ be hard to find, huh?” Damn, what kind of wreck had they been in? He knew that Bill wouldn’t tell him; he needed to remember by himself, not from anyone else. But this was his car, his ‘Cuda!

“Hey, baby.” Bill’s hand touched his face. Since that day they cuddled in bed, Sam and Bill had continued with their gentle touching and kissing. They’d talked about it, felt comfortable with it—and they both wanted and needed it. “The moment it’s fixed, I’ll take you to go get her, OK?”

Sam closed his eyes. “Sorry for being so silly. I know it’s just a car, but...”

“It’s all you have left of your parents, I know.” Sam opened his eyes and stared at him. “Yeah, we’ve talked about that. Why do you think I got Joe working on your car so quickly?”

“Thank you, Bill.” Sam leaned forward and brushed his lips against Bill’s. “That means so much more than you know.”

Bill kissed him back softly. “Anything for you, Sam.”

Sam smiled and pulled away. That urge to go further was always there, but Bill was firm about not wanting to take advantage of him. Sam respected Bill for it, but it didn’t help ease his horniness one bit.

“Since I’m feeling better—” he began.

“Sam, we’ve talked about this.”

He shook his head. “No! Not that. I mean, I’m _thinking_ that, but I want to do something to get my mind _off_ that.” Sam chewed the inside of his cheek. “Could we go see the horses? Not to ride them, but just to see them? I need to get out of the house for a while. Going back and forth to the doctor isn’t enough.”

Bill drummed his fingers on the back of the couch. “If you get too tired, you’ll let me know?”

Sam sat forward eagerly. “Yes! I promise! The fresh air will do me good! I know it will!”

“We’ll keep to the shade, to be on the safe side. Summer’s not over quite yet.”

“Whatever you say. Can we go now? I want to see Hazel.” Sam stood and tapped his lips. “Do you think she’ll remember me?”

Bill got to his feet. “Sam, _no one_ can forget you.”

* * *

“Hello there, pretty girl.” Sam held out his hand slowly to the roan mare who had leaned her head over the fence. He stroked her soft muzzle gently. “Remember me?”

Bill smiled from his place beside him. “I think she does.” He was relieved that there was a soft, cool breeze in the air. Sam should be fine outside for a while. “I’d expected to see some of the Greens about, but oh well.”

Sam slowly ran his hand over Hazel’s white blaze. “That’s right. The mayor owns this place.” He patted the mare’s jaw. “He has...two sons?”

“Yes, Jake and Eric.”

His boyfriend turned his head halfway in his direction. “I kinda remember them. Met them at the July Fourth thing. Do I know them very well?”

Bill gave him a reluctant look. “Sorry, Sam. You know why.”

“Yeah, I do,” Sam sighed. He dropped his hands as Hazel moved away, interested in doing something else in her enclosure. “But at least I remember Stanley a good bit.” His expression brightened. “We should have him over for dinner!”

“Tonight? Sure! We could pick up some pizzas. Let me call him and see if he’s free.” Bill took out his cell and dialed Stanley’s number. “Be right back.”

He took a few strides away from Sam as the call went through, keeping an eye on him. When Stanley picked up, he said, “Hey. Have a question for you.”

“Well, hello to you too. What’s up?”

“Sam wants you to have dinner with us. You interested?”

“Of course! But, umm…” Stanley paused. “Does he…?”

Bill stifled a laugh. “He just said that he remembered you not even a few minutes ago. Don’t worry, Stanley.”

“He did? That’s great! OK, then! I’ll bring some pop! Is six a good time?”

“Thanks, and it should be.” Bill’s eyes were distracted by the sight of Sam leaning back on the fence, head tilted back towards the sun with his eyes closed while the wind blew his hair lightly about his face. He looked peaceful, relaxed, the stress of the past month absent from his features.

Bill had missed that face.

“I’ll be there. See you guys soon.”

“Bye.”

Lowering his phone, Bill continued to gaze at Sam, his love for the man warming his heart. Each night got lonelier and lonelier. He wanted Sam beside him, where he belonged.

He pocketed his phone and went to stand before Sam, taking him gently by the arms to pull him towards him. Sam’s eyes opened in surprise and Bill kissed him. “Daydreaming?”

“Just happy not to be all cooped up. Helps me get out of my head.” He frowned. “It’s a screwy place in there right now, ya know.”

Bill hugged him. He could really only imagine. “Baby, anytime you want to go out, we’ll go out. I don’t care if it’s in the middle of the night, or if it’s just to drive around for hours.” He kissed Sam’s temple. “You say the word, we’ll go.”

Sam gripped the back of Bill’s shirt, laying his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “I’m starting to see why I love you so much, Bill.”

“I’m glad Sam.” Bill closed his eyes and held him tighter. “So, so glad…”

* * *

They picked up pizza on the way back, Sam smiling widely at Bill’s resigned face as he ordered a ham and onion pizza—Sam’s favorite. It appeared that Bill hated onions. However, Sam nearly gagged when Bill gave him an evil look and got two large supremes, one with no onions but extra mushrooms instead.

“You eat fungus?” he exclaimed incredulously. “I’m in a relationship with a fungus lover!” he cried dramatically, flinging a hand over his eyes.

“At least I don’t have to gargle half a bottle of mouthwash after eating your pizza,” Bill shot back humorously. Sam peaked between his fingers and laughed. “Well, your mouth tastes gross after!”

They were still teasing each other when they pulled up to the house several minutes later. Stanley had already arrived and was standing by his own truck waiting on them. Bill grabbed the pizzas while Sam slowly exited the truck and approached their friend.

He was unsure of how the taller man would react. He wasn’t afraid or wary of Stanley—he was one of his best friends according to what he remembered—he just, well, he just didn’t _know._ But he wanted to fix that, and the only way he could think of doing it was by spending time with him.

“Umm, hi Stanley,” he said. He went to hold out his hand, then yelped when Stanley embraced him.

Stanley let him go quickly. “S-Sorry! I’m just… I’m happy that you invited me over!” He exchanged a glance with Bill, who was staring between them. “Uhh, I brought drinks!” he said, running to his truck.

Sam turned wide eyes to Bill. “Didn’t you tell him I was doing better?” he asked, baffled.

Bill was watching Stanley take a plastic bag out of his vehicle. “I did, but I guess he’s been more worried about you then he’s let on.” He turned to Sam. “A lot of people care about you, ya know.”

They went inside, gathered around the table, and Bill handed each person a pizza box. Sam received his ham and onions, Bill his fungus infestation, and Stanley the regular supreme.

“We do this often?” Sam asked, grabbing a bottle of pop from the bag Stanley had brought. “An entire pizza each?”

“No one likes the same toppings. Ever,” Stanley replied. He lifted a slice from his container. “And picking off what you don’t like ruins everything.”

Sam couldn’t argue and dug in. They carried on an easy thread of conversation, Stanley catching them up on what he had been up to. He of course asked Sam how he was feeling, and Sam answered him as honestly as he could. Stanley didn’t push for more, thankfully, and turned the subject onto his sister, Bonnie.

“How’s she doing in Wichita?” Bill asked. He popped a mushroom in his mouth and Sam made a disgusted face at him.

“She’s doing pretty good,” Stanley said, smiling at his friends. “Likes being on her own. I Facetime with her twice a week.”

“Glad that she's doing well. Your mom and dad would be proud, Stanley,” Bill said.

A small smile appeared on Stanley’s face as he nodded and lowered his eyes. That’s right, Stanley’s parents had died in a car crash. Sam realized just how fortunate he was, having survived the one he’d been in, amnesia or not. It was so unfair, life.

Stanley stayed for a couple more hours, then had to say goodnight. He was an absurdly early riser because of having a farm. Sam stood with Bill on the front porch to watch him drive off, then took a deep breath and sighed.

“Sam?” Bill asked, turning to him. “Are you tired? Was today too much for you?”

Sam shook his head. “Just a lot on my mind.” Having spent the majority of the day with Bill had been wonderful; inviting Stanley over for dinner had made the day complete. He felt “normal” again, or at least close to it. He didn’t want the feeling to go away. He didn’t want to be lonely. “I… Bill…” He took Bill’s hand. “Stay?” he asked.

* * *

“‘Stay’?” Bill echoed. What was Sam getting at? “Sam, I can’t—”

“No!” Sam said, making Bill jump slightly. “N-Not that!” He sighed again. “I just don’t want to be alone anymore, Bill. It’s too quiet here, by myself.” He looked out into the yard. “I need someone to talk to other than myself and the cat.”

“You want me to move back in?” Bill asked carefully. He didn’t want to rush things too quickly, but he’d been waiting for Sam to ask him this. “Is that what you’re saying, Sam?”

Sam faced him. “Please?”

Bill raised his other hand and cradled Sam’s face. “Alright.” He kissed Sam softly. “But I get my side of the bed back.”

“That will be hard to give up, but I guess I can live with that,” Sam smiled. His amber eyes danced with mirth. “Just don’t wake me up doing laundry.”

“Heh, I think I learned my lesson on that a long time ago.” Bill led Sam back inside and together they tidied the kitchen, fed Cheeto, then decided to watch a bit of TV. They sat close together on the couch, and Sam wondered if this couch would one day be broken as well.

When they went to get ready for bed, Sam stood awkwardly watching Bill dig in their dresser. He didn’t know if they were going to change in front of one another or not. Should he just grab his own nightclothes and dart across the hall to the bathroom? Or should he just change in here since they’d seen each other naked before anyway?

Bill turned, surprising him by handing him a pair of sleep shorts and a shirt. “Here ya go,” he said, then walked past him to the bedroom door, holding his own sleepwear.

Sam watched dumbly as Bill crossed the hall into their bathroom and closed the door. His boyfriend had made the choice for him.

_Always surprising me,_ he thought.

* * *

Sam had gotten into bed by the time Bill returned. He hoped that Sam was a little more calm now. He’d looked nervous as hell earlier.

Bill slid under the covers beside him, clicking off the lamp. “OK?” he asked, wanting to pull Sam close but touching his arm instead.

“Yeah. I’m good. I just got a little confused about things for a minute.” Sam sidled over and laid his head on Bill’s chest. “I go back and forth on what I’m feeling, but I think I’m getting there.”

“I think you are too.” Bill swirled random patterns on Sam’s upper back with his fingers. “And I think that Doctor Griffin is going to be blown away by how far you’ve come when we go see him for your follow-up.”

Sam yawned against Bill’s chest. “That’s on Monday, isn’t it?”

“Yep.”

“Damn. Can’t believe that much time has gone by already.”

Bill kissed the crown of Sam’s head tenderly. “A lot has happened; it makes it seem shorter than it actually was.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, it does.” His breathing began to even out, and soon after he was deep asleep.

And Bill wasn’t far behind him.

* * *

_“Damn it’s cold! Does it snow like this **every** year?” Sam asked, closing the door to Bill’s truck. It was Sunday morning, and Sam usually went grocery shopping on that day. However, when he’d gone to his car and discovered that it was half-buried in snow, he realized that he was stuck._

_Thankfully, he had a boyfriend who owned a truck with four-wheel drive._

_“Just about,” Bill answered. “Here.” He handed Sam a thermos. “Thought you’d appreciate this.”_

_Sam took it from him and opened it, his eyes closing as the wonderful aroma of hot coffee filled his nostrils. “Oh yes, I certainly do.”_

_Bill drove them to Gracie’s, though the trip took a while longer than usual thanks to the snow and ice on the roads. Sam went to fiddle with the radio, but stopped when Bill glanced over at him._

_“Umm, music?” he asked._

_“As long as it doesn’t put me to sleep, sure,” Bill replied. Sam tuned in to a station, and they were soon both humming along to a classic 70s rock song._

_When the song’s bridge hit, Sam belted it out, and Bill joined in. They shared a look and a smile, and together they finished the song and the next three that played after. By the time they got to Gracie’s, they’d learned that they almost had the same taste in music._

_And that their singing voices complemented each other rather well._

_Sam whipped out a list once they walked inside, and smiled at Bill grabbing the nearest cart. “You don’t have to come with me. Why don’t you go to Bailey’s? I’ll meet you there when I’m done.”_

_Bill pushed the cart until it was alongside him. “I want to spend time with you.”_

_“Buying groceries?”_

_“What’s wrong with that?”_

_“You’re weird.” Sam’s eyes widened when Bill leaned over and kissed him soundly._

_Bill pulled back. “I think you’re weird too.” He gripped the cart with both hands and walked forwards. “Where to?” he called over his shoulder._

_**Music…** _

_**Laughter…** _

_**Screeching metal…** _

_**Breaking glass…** _

_**Sirens…** _

_**Pain…** _

_**Screaming Bill’s name over and over again...** _

_**Pain…** _

_**Someone calling his name...** _

_**Pain…** _

_**Pain…** _

_**Pain…** _

* * *

Sam sat up, throwing a hand to his chest. He was drenched in sweat and gasping for air. He ran a hand through his hair, freezing when his fingers grazed the barely healed scar on his scalp.

What the…? Why did he keep having dreams like this? They didn’t make any sense! He’d be doing something... _normal_...then be bombarded by... _that._ Neither the doctor nor Bill had mentioned him being in any other kind of accident before, so what the hell was going on?!

He wiped his arm across his forehead, clearing it of sweat. Could it be…? But Doctor Griffin had said that he would most likely never remember it! He shuddered and closed his eyes. He didn’t _want_ to remember it!

Bill, who had been turned away from him, stirred. “Hmm? Sam?” It was pitch-black in the bedroom. “What is it?”

“I-I need to go to the bathroom,” Sam lied. He winced; fuck, why did that feel worse than it should?

“Then why are you just sitting there?” Bill asked. He sat up and clicked on the lamp. “ _Sam?_ ”

Sam shook his head and went to crawl towards the end of the bed. “I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” He had barely moved when Bill took his arm. “Bill…”

“You’re _not_ fine. You look sick.” Bill placed his hand over Sam’s brow. “You’re all sweaty and pale.”

“I’m not sick, Bill. Just… I just…”

Bill tilted his head. “What is it, baby?”

“I keep…remembering something that I don’t understand.” Sam chewed his lip. “It scares me.”

* * *

OK, Bill didn’t like that _at all._ He hauled Sam into his lap, cradling his body close. “Tell me about it.”

Sam tensed in his arms. “But what if it’s just my brain making things up? It could be nothing. Just...Just nothing…” he whispered, trailing off.

“If it’s nothing, why are you scared, Sam?” Bill asked, stroking the hair gently at the base of Sam’s neck. “C’mon, you can talk about it with me.”

“I know that you can’t tell me much, but...” Sam rested his head on Bill’s shoulder. “The car crash… Did I get knocked out right away?” His voice wavered. “I didn’t sit there in pain for hours, did I?”

Bill closed his eyes. Sam was recalling the wreck? But Doctor Griffin had said… “What did you remember?”

“That it hurt like a fucking bitch, mostly. Someone kept calling my name. The sounds of a car—my car I guess?—being hit and torn up.” Sam shuddered and Bill held him tighter. “But a lotta pain. All in my chest and head. The worst that I ever felt in my life.”

Sam started to shake. “And-And I was afraid. I remember that now.” He gasped. “I can’t see it clearly, but I was terrified.” He raised his head and stared at Bill. “I thought you were dead!” he sobbed out.

Bill pulled him close again. “But I’m not, Sam. I’m not.” He rocked him in his arms. Dammit, nothing like this had been brought up in the family support group the therapists had recommended. The doctor said the chances of Sam remembering the wreck were extremely small. Fuck! “I’m right here, with you, at our house in Jericho. Shh, baby, shh…”

“I need you,” Sam cried, clutching his shirt. “Please, Bill…”

“I’m not going anywhere, Sam…”

Sam shook his head. “No, Bill. I _need_ you,” he said again, pushing himself up and capturing Bill’s lips in a desperate kiss.

Bill kissed back on force of habit, then pulled away. “N-No, Sam. I’m sorry, but we can’t—”

“Not that Bill. Just touch me. Please. I-I need to escape the prison my mind has become,” Sam begged, tears dripping down his face in rivulets. “At least for a little while. Bill, please; you won’t be taking advantage of me. I know how you feel about me, and...and how I feel about you. I _remember._ The thought of you dying…” He squeezed his eyes shut and dropped his head. “I can’t…”

Bill couldn’t either. He knew that feeling all too well. When he had thought that Sam was dead, he was in the same state that Sam was in now. He would have given anything for the comfort that Sam was seeking. And dammit, how could he deny the man he loved? Sam shouldn’t cry because he was afraid of him dying!

“Shh, baby.” Bill turned Sam in his arms and laid him upon the bed before him. “I’ll take care of you, OK?” Sam’s grateful eyes made Bill’s heart sing, and he covered his body with his own. “Just tell me to stop if you—OOF!”

Sam grabbed him by the shoulders and tugged him down until their faces were inches apart. “Shut up and kiss me, Bill.” He crashed their lips together, letting his hands fall to the bed, giving Bill the lead. Bill threaded his fingers into Sam’s hair, keeping them clear of where he had been injured.

Their hips ground together, their erections stimulating each other through the thin material of their sleep shorts. Oh, Bill knew exactly what he wanted to do for his Sam.

He ran his hands down Sam’s sides slowly while kissing along his lover’s jawline. Sam whimpered, turning his head, then lifted his hips when Bill hooked his fingers under the hemline of his shorts.

“These need to go,” Bill whispered. He sat back on his heels and slid the shorts off Sam, then removed his own, tossing both pairs onto the floor. He spread Sam’s legs and leaned forward, hovering his mouth over his cock. It was weeping and Bill licked his lips in anticipation.

The sight made Sam moan. He’d seen this in his memories, Bill hungrily raking his eyes over his body, wanting to devour him with his lips and mouth and tongue. Sam had jerked himself off more than once after such flashbacks, but now, _now,_ Bill would be the one helping him come.

He cried out at Bill’s tongue licking a hot, wet line up the underside of his cock, following the thick vein that ran along it. His legs spread open wider, left hand shooting down to grip Bill’s hair. Bill licked all over his cock, slicking it with his saliva, making it gleam in the light of the bedside lamp. Sam’s legs shook, and he leaned up on his right elbow, wanting to watch his lover work.

Bill brought a hand into play, cupping Sam’s balls, rolling them in his palm. He smiled with the head of Sam’s cock in his mouth, the deep groans of his lover filling his ears. He knew how to give Sam pleasure, knew every one of his erogenous zones. Bill had learned them all thoroughly.

“ _Ohhh, Bill,_ ” Sam moaned while Bill steadily lowered his mouth. He bit his lip hard as the hand Bill had on his balls inched towards his taint and swirled his fingers against the skin there. “ _Mmmm…_ ”

Bobbing his head on Sam’s cock, Bill removed his hand from Sam and gripped his own cock, stroking it firmly. He gathered the precum that was dripping from its slit onto his fingers, then went to circling Sam’s hole.

Sam pressed against Bill’s fingers, encouraging him. He wanted Bill to touch that place inside of him, to fuck him open with his long, thick fingers. To make him see stars. And—oh, fuck!—was Bill’s mouth and tongue amazing!

Bill, using his own precum as lubricant, pressed his middle finger deep into Sam. He knew it wouldn’t hurt Sam—Sam loved the slight burn, always had—and it made his cock throb at how tight Sam clenched at the intrusion.

He was in danger of coming at just the thought of being inside his lover.

Mouth and finger working in tandem, Bill sucked Sam’s cock and worked his hole. He ignored the sharp tugs of his hair, letting Sam take all the pleasure. He twisted his wrist, aiming for Sam’s prostate, and when he brushed his fingertip over it, Sam shouted his name.

“BILL!” He took a deep breath. “STOP!”

Bill froze, then slowly removed his mouth and finger from Sam. “Baby?” he asked, checking over Sam carefully.

Sam smiled breathlessly at him. “Don’t...wanna...finish...without you,” he explained. He held out his arms. “Get over here.”

“Just a sec.” Bill pulled his sweat-soaked shirt over his head, appreciating the way his lover’s eyes roamed over his body. He balled it up and threw it to the floor, reaching over to the night stand to fish out a half-used tube of lube. “OK.” He sprawled between Sam’s legs, kissing him deeply, rutting their groins together.

“Please, Bill,” Sam rasped between kisses. “Wanna come with you.”

Bill pushed himself up to his knees, squirting a large dollop of lube into the palm of one hand. He then leaned forward on his other arm, resting on his elbow. “Just let go when you get there,” he whispered. He wrapped his lubed hand around both their cocks and stroked them together slowly.

“AH!” Sam arched his back. “BILL! YES! DON’T STOP!” He thrust his cock up into Bill’s hand. “PLEASE!”

Increasing his movements, Bill began rolling his hips along with Sam. “That’s it, Sam. _UH!_ Just like that…”

The bed was creaking beneath them, but it always did when they were in the throes of passion. Bill had made certain that their bed was extra sturdy when they’d bought it, since their history with other furniture wasn’t that stellar. They could be as rough and frantic as they liked.

Bill dropped his other arm to his elbow, using only his lower body to slide his and Sam’s cocks together firmly and sensually. Sam was moving his body to increase the friction, and he wrapped his arms around Bill’s back, digging his fingers into the smooth skin and muscle.

“Harder, harder,” he chanted. He was almost there. He felt the heat pooling in his belly, his balls tightening against Bill’s. “So good, Bill…” He inhaled the thin sheen of sweat on Bill’s skin, and was hit with that scent from his memories. Bill _did_ smell amazing...

“Sam…” Bill moaned. “I love you, Sam…”

Sam squeezed his eyes shut. His heart screamed at him to return Bill’s words. He _did_ love Bill. He did!

But could remembering be enough?

He tossed his head back as Bill pumped his hips urgently against him. “Let go, Sam,” Bill whispered. “Let go…”

So Sam did.

“AH! AH! AH!” His entire body trembled with his orgasm, his arms clenching even tighter about Bill’s back. “BILL!”

Bill lost it as he felt Sam’s climax, his lover’s cum splashing hot and wet along their still moving cocks. He cried out Sam’s name, his own release mixing with Sam’s on their heaving stomachs and chests. He fell to the side, breathing heavily, smiling as Sam rolled over and curled up into his arms.

“Thank you, Bill,” Sam said softly, sliding a sweaty hand across Bill’s chest.

“I’ll do anything for you, Sam.” Bill kissed the top of Sam’s head. “I love you.”

“I…” Sam’s hand stilled and curled into a fist. “Bill... I think I love you, too.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: Car wreck and mentions of blood

That Monday afternoon found Bill and Sam waiting on Dr. Griffin for Sam’s follow-up appointment. Even though it had been a few days, Bill was still on cloud nine about Sam’s words of love to him. He’d been worried that Sam had spoken them in a sex-hazed delirium, but Sam had continued with the “I love you”s and other words of affection. They had shared one another again each night as well, and Bill was more hopeful than ever.

Sam was flipping nervously through one of the many outdated and creased magazines that were strewn about the waiting room. The night before he had come to Bill, anxious about the appointment. When asked why, Sam admitted that he was worried that his memories were just too far and between. He was remembering them too slowly for them to make any kind of sense, and maybe he wasn’t actually getting better at all. Sam was afraid that he’d never be who he was before the accident, and he wanted that more than anything now. Bill had tried his best to reassure Sam, once again pointing out how much he had improved since those first scary days in the hospital. But Sam remained troubled, and all Bill could do was try to distract him with touches and kisses until he fell asleep.

“What’s taking so long?” Sam finally said, tossing the magazine aside in frustration. A few other people in the room gave him annoyed looks, but Sam ignored them. “I should’ve been seen forty minutes ago.”

Bill placed his phone in his lap; he’d been playing some mindless card game. “You’re checked in, baby. You know how it is with these things,” he said calmly and patiently.

Sam crossed his arms, puffing air out between his cheeks. “I just...I just want this to be _over_ with so I can get—”

“Mr. Dobbs?” a voice called out. Sam snapped his head in its direction. A male nurse was standing at the doorway that led to the examination room. “Mr. Dobbs?” he asked again.

“Let’s go,” Bill said quietly to Sam. He wondered what exactly Sam was going to say before he’d been interrupted. It hadn’t sounded like it was going to be anything good, and it worried him.

* * *

Dr. Griffin tested Sam’s reflexes, had him follow that stupid, infernal penlight of his with his eyes, tell him his name and date of birth. He had to remember three different words at the start of the exam, then repeat them verbatim at the end. Sam had done all of this each day when he had been a patient in the hospital.

This was all turning out to be a complete waste of time.

“How many memories have you recovered?” the doctor asked, taking a seat while opening Sam’s chart. He uncapped a pen and held it in his hand.

Sam had no idea _how_ many he had remembered; he hadn’t exactly kept count. He sent a panicked look Bill’s way.

“He’s remembered a good bit,” Bill said, holding his gaze before turning to the doctor. “A lot of things he just seems to...well...know already.”

Dr. Griffin nodded and made some notes. “That’s completely normal. Very good.”

“That’s good? Really?” Sam’s words were short and clipped. Dr. Griffin and Bill turned to him. “Then why doesn’t it happen with everything else? Why is it taking so damn long?”

“Sam…” Bill started to say.

Sam shook his head. “No! It-It… Why doesn’t anyone else get it?” _No one_ else got it! All those fragments of memories in his brain were like tiny raindrops trapped in a dark cloud. They were scattered about his head, all disordered, unable to connect in any logical way. The more memories he recalled, the more “drops” he accumulated—and the more frustrated and disheartened he became. If only his memories would all come together somehow and “fall down” from the cloud that was his amnesia.

If only the missing pieces of the puzzle could be found and put back together...

It was enough to almost drive him mad.

“Mr. Dobbs, I’ve been honest with you the entire time you’ve been under my care,” Dr. Griffin said, standing from his chair. He closed Sam’s file, tucking it under his arm and putting his pen in his coat pocket. “You trusted me because of that, correct?”

Sam gave him a terse nod. “I did… And…I-I still do.”

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “So did you not also trust me when I explained that your recovery could take a significant amount of time?”

“Of course I did!” Sam exclaimed. “But…” He glanced at Bill, who was looking at him in concern. He wanted to remember _everything_ about him and Bill. Their entire relationship, every moment; not just these little snippets of time he kept getting.

It wasn’t fair!

“You’re progressing remarkably well,” Dr. Griffin said.

“But it’s not enough!” Sam cried, covering his face. He couldn’t hold it in anymore, he just gave in and let his sorrow wash over him. “...it’s not enough.”

* * *

“Sam!” Bill was at Sam’s side in an instant, taking him in his arms. His lover turned into him, sobs wracking his body. He wanted with all his being to take on the pain and fear Sam was dealing with day after day. But he couldn’t even help shoulder it, not really. Like Sam had said, he just didn’t “get it.”

As a result, Bill was at a loss for words. He rubbed Sam’s back, kissed his hair, tried to calm his tears. It tore at his heart most when Sam cried like this. Sam had done too much crying lately, and Bill wanted it to stop.

He gratefully accepted the box of tissues Dr. Griffin offered, and gently tilted Sam’s head up. His lover’s face was a mess of tears, his beautiful amber eyes red and glassy. Bill took a tissue and pressed it softly to Sam’s cheek, dabbing up the moisture. “Shh, baby. It’s all right. Please don’t cry…”

“B-But, Bill…” Sam whimpered, a tear streaking down the cheek Bill had just cleaned. “I’m not—”

“You _are_ better, Sam,” Bill said, leaning forward to kiss him tenderly on the forehead. “Please don’t let your frustrations blind you to that.” Bill pulled back and stared into Sam’s eyes. “Please?”

Sam let loose a wet, shuddering breath. “But what if I don’t remember enough? I’d just be an incomplete person, Bill…” He closed his eyes. “I’ll never be... _me…_ ”

Bill’s face fell. Was this the real reason why Sam had gotten so upset the night before? Did he really think that he’d never remember everything? Hadn’t he told Sam weeks ago that he’d start over with him if it came down to that? Was Sam letting doubt creep in from all directions? “Sam, I love you. _You._ Not your memories.” Sam’s eyes opened and Bill cradled his lover’s face. “I. Love. _You._ ”

Sam’s lips trembled as he whispered, “I love you, too.” He flung his arms around Bill, burying his face into his chest. “I love you, too!”

Bill held him tightly, then both blinked at the sound of the exam room door closing. Dr. Griffin had made an _almost_ discreet exit.

Sam raised his head. “I guess we got too sappy for him,” he sniffled out.

Bill chuckled. Sam would always be the jesting man that he fell in love with. “Must not be much of a romantic.” He pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss. “Are you all right, baby?”

Sam nodded. “I’m…” He kissed Bill. “...what was it you said?” He kissed Bill again. “Oh yeah!” He gave Bill one more kiss, making Bill laugh. “Better. So much better.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes or so later, Dr. Griffin returned. He insisted on checking Sam’s vitals, and Sam allowed him to do so without complaint. To the doctor’s surprise, Sam began the conversation, stating how the memories usually began and ended, and how he’d even had some while he slept.

“When was the last nocturnal memory?” Dr. Griffin asked.

Sam paused and shared a look with Bill, who smiled in encouragement. “A few nights ago.”

The doctor had noticed the exchange. “Was it something significant?”

“Well, it was more like unexpected.” Sam launched into what it had been about, along with how it had felt more like a nightmare than anything else. He also suddenly remembered the “blips” he had started having the day he checked out from the hospital, so he included those as well.

The doctor’s eyebrows almost shot up to his hairline. “That’s unusual to hear. Only a very small percentage of patients ever remember the moments leading up to their memory loss.” He wrote out what appeared to be several long sentences. “Very remarkable indeed,” he murmured.

“Is it a good unusual or bad unusual?” Bill asked. He was holding Sam’s hand. “You’ve said more than once that Sam has surprised you.”

Dr. Griffin tapped the paper with his pen. “I can’t say either-or. The studies on this have been few and far between. There’s just so few people who have remembered those moments.” He looked straight at Sam. “But, if you continue to improve at this same rate, I wouldn’t be surprised if you were to regain at least seventy-five percent of your memory, Mr. Dobbs.”

Sam squeezed Bill’s hand tightly. Seventy-five? _Seventy-five?_ That was… _Wow!_ It was more than he could’ve asked for! _Hoped_ for! It wasn’t everything, but that didn’t matter. He had Bill—his wonderful, stubborn, understanding Bill—to help him find any missing pieces.

“That-That’s…” Bill faced Sam, his face split wide with a dazzling smile, tawny eyes lit up and sparkling. “Sam…” He embraced Sam, kissing his cheek. “Oh, Sam…”

“Yeah,” Sam replied, his voice thick with emotion. How had he gotten so lucky with Bill? He hoped he could find out soon!

* * *

The entire drive back to Jericho they held hands, talking excitedly back and forth. For once, there was optimism on both sides, in both their words. Sam smiled and cut up, making the cheesy jokes that Bill adored. He offered to stop and get ice cream, but Sam declined, wanting to get back home; he couldn’t wait to share the news with their friends. They’d been so supportive, and would be just as happy and excited as they were.

Unlike the last time they’d made the trip from Denver, Sam stayed awake. He watched the miles go by and cars pass them—frequently—on the highway. He’d come to expect that, since Bill was a stickler to following the speed limit. No wonder he never let Bill drive his car; he’d go insane otherwise.

Unfortunately, a disturbing thought entered his mind when they were a handful of miles out from Jericho. What if something like this happened again? What if he was prone to losing his memory now, and just a slight bump wiped out everything once more?

Why hadn’t he asked Dr. Griffin about all this?!

His anxiety must have shown on his face. “Sam? Baby? What’s wrong?” Bill’s voice asked.

Sam ran his hand over his mouth, thinking quickly. He wouldn’t lie. “What if…” He sighed and turned. “What if this happens again?”

Bill frowned, keeping his focus on the road. He glanced in the rearview mirror, then pulled the truck to the shoulder. Putting it in park and turning off the ignition, he stared at the steering wheel before replying. “The doctor would’ve said something about that.”

“But I didn’t ask! Maybe that’s why—”

“Sam.” Bill reached for his hand, holding it tightly and looking into his eyes. “I know that it’s hard to keep yourself from getting your hopes up. You’ve been through more than most people go through in a lifetime, but thinking the worst doesn’t help, baby.”

Bill’s pleading voice and searching eyes, the firm grip of his hand—Sam focused on them all. They grounded him, helped chase away his distress. It was all Sam had mostly felt for the past month or so, distress. He wanted to feel like himself again, not this...whatever he’d been ever since he’d awoken from his coma.

But he still couldn’t shake away the fear entirely. “I know it doesn’t help, Bill, but I’m still afraid of losing everything again.”

“You won’t ever lose everything. You’ll never lose _me,_ ” Bill said, conviction blazing in his eyes. “Don’t be afraid of being alone, Sam.”

“I love you, Bill.” The words flowed so easily from within Sam. “Thanks for putting up with my broke self.”

Bill leaned over and kissed him. “You’re welcome.”

Sam smiled against Bill’s lips. “Can I ask a favor?”

“No, we’re not gonna have sex on the side of the road in the truck.”

“Well, that might’ve covered what I was gonna ask, but OK…” Sam’s eyes twinkled.

Bill’s expression grew wary. “Oh no, what _are_ you gonna ask me?” He drew back.

“Well, since you asked…” Sam tapped his chin. “I was thinking that we could make some memories that we’d _really_ never forget! Ya know, like”—he wiggled his eyebrows—”having hot and raunchy sex on the side of the highway in your truck.”

“Which I’ve ruled out,” Bill reminded him.

Sam shrugged. “There’s plenty of other things we can do.”

Bill folded his arms. “Such as?”

Sam looked out the window. “Well,” he drawled. “How about kissing as the sun sets?”

“Hmm.” Bill cast his eyes in the same direction as his boyfriend’s. He’d parked his truck near a freshly plowed field. The sun was indeed going down, the sky awash in the shades of evening. “Wouldn’t that be cheesy, though?”

“I actually thought it would be fun and romantic!” Sam replied, narrowing his eyes at Bill playfully. He then cocked his head. “However, I suppose if it’s cheesy, we wouldn’t forget that either, huh?”

Bill laughed. “Alright, you’ve convinced me!” He unbuckled his seat belt. “Let’s go!”

Sam followed suit and got out, Bill scooting across the seats and exiting the truck on the same side. They joined hands and walked to the edge of the field, the late summer sun still warm on their faces.

“You know that we’re getting weird looks from people driving by,” Bill whispered, pulling Sam into his arms.

“So?” Sam pressed himself close. “Let ‘em look. I bet we could teach them a thing or two.” He slid his hands around Bill’s hips and tilted his head forwards.

Bill placed his hands on Sam’s waist, leaning in to kiss him softly. Their eyes closed, the drone of the cars zooming by on the highway fading away. The touch of their lips was all that mattered, the sighs that escaped their mouths as the kiss deepened. They wound their arms around each other, wanting to be as close as possible.

They had to reluctantly break away, needing air. Bill kept his forehead against Sam’s, panting breathlessly, not wanting to lose contact with his boyfriend’s skin. “OK, that was romantic,” he admitted.

“See?” Sam said, squeezing him tightly. He smiled mischievously. “If you want, I suppose we could try to find other places to make memories.”

“I’m more than happy to try as many times as we need to,” Bill smiled.

“Like somewhere where it’s cheesy?” Sam teased.

“Works for me. You know a place?”

“Umm, maybe where people kiss in sappy romance movies?” Sam answered. Bill snorted at his vague answer. “Well, I don’t know!”

Bill nuzzled their noses together. “We’ll find somewhere.”

Sam smiled then raised his eyes to the sky. “It’s getting dark.”

“Yeah, we should get going.”

* * *

Since they were both still flying high from the kiss, neither wanted to go home just yet. They still had the urge to celebrate, to share Sam’s good news with friends. Sam called Stanley and Jimmy, made plans for them all to meet at Bailey’s. Perhaps they’d run into other people they knew there, as well.

Sam had yet to go to Bailey’s since returning to Jericho. There was usually a large crowd gathered there, and Bill had worried about it being too much for him. But after such a good report from the doctor, and having no mention of such restrictions, it seemed nothing to worry about anymore. They found a corner booth, ordered drinks, and went to deciding on what to eat while waiting for their friends to arrive.

“What are you in the mood for?” Bill asked. “Get whatever you want.”

“Hmm…” Sam looked about the bar, seeing what other patrons were enjoying. “I can’t decide. What...umm...what’s good here?”

Bill looked chagrined. “Oh, sorry, of course.” He threw his arm around Sam’s shoulders and hugged him. “I’m an ass.” He rattled off a handful of menu items. “Those were the ones you rotated through.”

“I think I remember the burgers… No pickles, though; I don’t like their pickles.” Bailey’s used sweet pickles, and he couldn’t _stand_ sweet pickles.

“Ahh, food jogging your memory?” Bill teased.

Sam grinned. He’d remembered something! “Yeah! I guess it did!” He took a sip of his Dr. Pepper. “We should go out to eat more often.”

Bill kissed his cheek. “I think we can do that.”

“Well, look who it is!” a voice called.

They turned and Sam smiled. “Hi, Jake!”

Jake Green strode over and held out his hand. “It’s good to see you, Sam. We’ve all been thinking about you.”

Sam took his hand. “It’s good to see you, too.”

* * *

_The bar was crowded, full of laughter and conversation. There were streamers and balloons everywhere, and music blared from the speakers. The bartender, Mary, was chatting and making drinks for everyone while the handful of waitresses were weaving through the crowd with said drinks on trays. On the various tables were arranged beef and grilled chicken sliders, some with cheese, some without. And sitting by itself on a white-clothed table was a three-tiered wedding cake, decorated elegantly with buttercream rosettes and topped with a traditional bride and groom wedding cake topper._

_“Are you going to go in?” Bill’s voice said from behind him._

_Sam laughed nervously; he hadn’t realized that he’d been staring. “Uh, yeah. Sorry. I’ve just never seen a wedding reception inside a bar before.” He walked forwards, Bill following after him._

_“Best food in Jericho, best price—free—and best drinks in town? Who wouldn’t want to celebrate here?” Bill said. He took Sam’s arm and walked them both to the bar, shaking his head at the proffered tray of one of the waitresses._

_“Hey fellas,” Mary greeted when she caught sight of them. “What would you like?”_

_“Our usual?” Bill glanced at Sam, who nodded._

_Mary had their glasses on the bar before them quickly and shooed them away. “Y’all go mingle. I’ve got work to do,” she said._

_Sam took his glass and turned, then paused as the entire bar erupted in cheers, whistles, and applause. The bride and groom had arrived, their faces beaming with happiness._

_Mr. and Mrs. Jake and Emily Green, just married, ready to start their lives together. And after much too long—at least, that’s what a lot of people in town said anyway._

_The crowd parted, allowing the couple to enter the bar. They had changed from their wedding attire, wearing clothing that was a little more dressed down. People were hugging them, shaking their hands, offering congratulations and well-wishes._

_They made their way to Sam and Bill, and Sam awkwardly put his glass back on the bar. He went to shake Jake’s hand, but remembered the condensation from his drink. He hurriedly wiped it off on his slacks, then took the groom’s hand._

_“Congratulations,” he said, hoping he didn’t look like the idiot he felt._

_Jake laughed. “Thanks, Sam. It’s good to see you.”_

* * *

Sam dropped Jake’s hand. That wedding had been over a year ago, and it had been a wonderful day for all involved. He could remember it vividly, along with a deep longing for...something…

What had it been?

“How’s Emily?” Bill asked, extending his hand and shaking Jake’s.

“Still molding the young minds of tomorrow,” Jake replied.

Sam barely acknowledged what the two other men were saying. He was struggling to understand this intense emotion that was wrapping itself around his heart. He couldn’t name it, nor could he think of anything to compare it to.

Jake’s name was called from the bar. “Well, that’s my to-go order. Bringing something home for the wife.” He gave them a wave. “I’m glad to hear that you’re doing better, Sam. Give us a call, and we’ll have you two over for dinner sometime.”

“Later, Jake! Thanks!” Bill said. He turned concerned eyes to Sam as Jake walked away. “Hey, you got all quiet. You feeling OK?”

“I’m...not sure.” He didn't feel _bad,_ just confused. “Jake and Emily had their wedding reception here,” he stated.

His lover’s eyes widened. “Yes, yes they did.” He touched Sam’s arm. “Do you remember anything else?”

“I…” Emotions could be memories, he’d more than learned that by now. But how do you explain longing for something you forgot? Hadn’t he done that for weeks now anyway, yearned for his memories to return?

Maybe that’s all this really was—him remembering a time when all was perfect and happy, and his mind and heart were desperately crying out for it to be that way once more.

Yes, that had to be it.

“...I believe that’s all,” Sam said, putting his worries to rest.

Bill’s brow furrowed, and he seemed about to object, but was interrupted by the appearance of Stanley and Jimmy. They slid into the other side of the booth, requested drinks from the waiter who promptly ran over, then launched into congratulating Sam on his good news.

Food was ordered shortly after, and they spent the next hour and a half enjoying one another’s company. Sam hadn’t spent much time with Jimmy, though he had plenty of memories involving Bill’s work partner, as well as his wife and children. But Jimmy was as easy to get along with as Stanley, and the four men joked and talked about anything and everything.

Sam hadn’t had such fun since living in Rocky Road with his best friends.

Well, that he could remember anyway.

He pushed the thought aside; no need to dampen his mood. This was a celebration! He was improving more than expected—Dr. Griffin had said so!—and he would have a majority of his memories back in no time! There was no need to feel down!

While saying their goodbyes, Sam glanced at Bill’s face. The happiness in those tawny eyes, the slight indentation of the dimples in his cheeks from his smile, it made that deep emotion in his chest swell more than ever. It was demanding to be noticed, to be acknowledged, and Sam couldn’t fight it anymore.

Bill took Sam’s hand and led him out the door from Bailey’s. They stood on the sidewalk, the sounds of Jimmy’s and Stanley’s vehicles driving down Main Street in their ears. Sam’s eyes traveled the length of the street, stopping at Gracie’s.

“That’s where we met,” he said, pointing at the store.

“Yeah,” Bill answered. “I just couldn’t help admiring that car of yours.”

Sam’s heart jumped at the mention of his car. What did that mean? “Bill, what did we do after the wedding?”

“Like right after?” Bill smiled wistfully. “Well, damn. That is something I _really_ wish I could tell you, Sam.”

“Did it…” How should he ask this? “Well, did it involve my car?” Sam forced himself to look his lover in the eye. “I just have this feeling that something happened with it.”

* * *

What should he do? Technically Sam almost remembered, so Bill could tell him, right? But what if he went about it the wrong way and Sam recalled it incorrectly? He could screw up Sam’s entire recovery! Shit! Why was this all so complicated?!

Wait! What had the doctor told him the first few days back in Denver? Something about cues… He closed his eyes, chewing the inside of his cheek. Memory cues! He could use a memory cue! But Sam’s car was what he needed, and it was still being repaired…

“Are you all right? You look like you’re getting a headache.” Fingers ran gently down his temple and Bill opened his eyes to Sam’s worried gaze. “If I’m making this difficult for you, I’ll just drop it. It’s OK.”

“Nope, you’re not doing anything, baby.” Bill took Sam’s hand and kissed it. “I’m just trying to decide if what I’m thinking about doing is a good idea.”

“I trust you, Bill. I know you wouldn’t hurt me,” Sam said. He stepped closer and laid his head on Bill’s shoulder. “I feel safest when I’m with you.”

Bill wrapped his arm around him. Would Joe mind them coming by so late? He’d have to call…

“I might need to make a call first,” he said. “I’m not sure if it’ll—”

“Are you gonna call Joe?” Bill drew in a startled breath, and Sam’s shoulders moved up and down as he laughed. “I have holes in my memory, Bill, not my brain,” he quipped mildly.

Bill slid his hand up Sam’s back to cup his head, gently lifting it up to face him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make it sound that way,” he said before kissing him.

Sam returned the kiss. “I know.” He patted Bill’s cheek. “Go make your call. I’ll wait by the truck.”

* * *

Joe was bewildered by Bill’s request, but agreed to meet them at the shop right away. Sam was his favorite client, after all; no one else got to work on the Barracuda except for him, not even Bill anymore. Changing the oil was fine, but anything else required a visit to Joe’s.

When they pulled up, the mechanic was waiting for them. He waved, looking odd in a regular t-shirt and jeans instead of his usual oil-stained attire. He escorted them inside, leading them to the garage. He asked how their night was going, and Bill answered with a few casual sentences.

Before they entered the garage, Bill took Sam’s hand. Sam shot him a questioning look, to which he replied, “Just letting you know I’m here.”

Joe flipped on the lights, and Sam stared. His car, his beautiful ‘Cuda… Oh! She wasn’t entirely in shambles—it was plain to see where Joe had been working diligently on the classic car. There had been extensive bodywork, parts of the chrome trim had been replaced, and there was brand new leather covering the front seats. There was also evidence that Joe was preparing to paint the car soon judging by the epoxy primer that had been sprayed on its exterior.

Sam’s eyes strayed to the front of the car. The windshield was missing. Well, of course it would have to be replaced because—

He hurried over to the car, Bill being dragged along with him. He wanted to touch the smooth metal of his beloved Barracuda, but was afraid he’d mess up the primer. The steering wheel was also new, he noticed, so he reached in and gripped it, the grooves pressing into his fingers.

* * *

_After the wedding, they’d gone for a drive in Sam’s car. It was one of their favorite pastimes. Putting down the convertible's top, letting the wind blow through their hair—it was exhilarating. To appease Bill, Sam kept just above the speed limit since it was after dark. But that was OK; as long as his boyfriend held his hand, Sam didn’t care if they let a turtle pass them. Just having Bill with him was enough._

_**Sirens. Stinging pain in his eyes. A foul taste in his mouth. Glass, glass everywhere…** _

* * *

Sam staggered, and if it weren’t for Bill’s arm wounding around his waist he would’ve fallen. “Sam!” Bill backed him away from the car, looking about the garage. “Joe! Is there a chair? Somewhere I can sit him down?”

“Here!” Sam was maneuvered onto a dusty office chair that had been in a corner. “Want me to get him some water?”

“That would be great, yeah.” Bill kneeled and looked Sam over. “Hey, baby, you with me? What’s going on?” he asked, running his eyes all over Sam’s face.

Sam struggled to keep his thoughts straight. “We were in the car.”

Bill placed a hand on Sam’s knee. “...the car?” Recognition then filled his face. “Yes, yes we were in the car, after Jake and Emily’s wedding.”

* * *

_**“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brains!” Sam glanced over at Bill from the driver’s seat as he wove in and out of Denver traffic, singing at the top of his lungs with his lover. Damn, he loved this man!** _

* * *

“I was the one driving.” Sam hunched forward and squeezed his eyes shut. “I was the one driving, Bill!” he choked out.

“Sam…” Bill breathed. Fingers touched his face. “What did you remember?”

* * *

_They had ended up at the end of a deserted road beneath the shadows of a trio of oak trees. The wedding ceremony was still fresh in his mind. He’d never attended many weddings—he’d always thought that they were a waste of money and time, and all the people he’d known who had been married were divorced now. It wasn’t worth it, tying yourself down to someone else. They always left you, like Tiffany had left him._

_But Bill… Bill had been with him for three years now. He loved Bill more than anything else in the world. Bill knew him better than anyone, had never shown any sign that he’d leave. They were one, he and Bill._

_One…_

_Bill turned to him, and Sam’s heart thudded against his chest._

_“I love you, Bill,” he whispered._

_“I love you, too, baby,” Bill whispered back, threading his fingers into Sam’s hair._

_Sam touched their foreheads together, gripping Bill’s shoulders and staring into his caring, tawny eyes._

_Slowly, their lips met._

_He’d never leave Bill, either._

_Ever._

_**“Bill, could you hand me my sunglasses?” Sam squinted through the windshield. The sun was really bright today. He felt the sunglasses settle in his hand and he whipped them on. “Thanks.”** _

_**He started to slow the car’s acceleration at a red light, Jerry Lee Lewis’ “Great Balls of Fire” still blaring from the radio. Damn it was a great day to be alive!** _

* * *

“We were so happy.” Sam wiped at his eyes. “Why did I ruin it?” His mind and emotions were a mess.

“Ruin what, Sam? I don’t understand.” Bill’s voice was growing more and more concerned. “Do you want me to call the doctor?”

* * *

_Bill’s face was suffused with happiness. Sam was just relieved that he hadn’t screwed everything up. Bill pressed him down onto the car seat, and Sam didn’t resist._

_If anyone was worth it, it was Bill..._

_**He cried out as the car was rear-ended, throwing out his arms to grip the dashboard, Bill’s cries of alarm joining his. There was the squeal of tires on the pavement, the buckling of metal, glass shattering. Sam felt the burn of his seatbelt for all of a second before it gave way. For some unfathomable reason, he made a note to have Joe fix it and check out all the car’s other seatbelts. However, his attention was diverted when his chest slammed into the steering wheel. He screamed, and the car rocked forward.** _

_**The movement pushed his body upward, and the sound of screeching metal filled his ears. Glass flew everywhere, and he was still trying to grasp on to something, anything, to keep himself stationary.** _

_**“Sam!” Bill shouted. He tried to turn his head to him, but he was just being jostled too much, it was all happening too quickly!** _

_**He jerked his head up, the windshield rushing towards him.** _

_**“Bill!” he called out.** _

* * *

Bill grabbed a bucket that was nearby—thank goodness they were in a garage!—and held it beneath Sam’s head. His lover had gone from pale to green so fast that it was obvious that he was going to be sick. Luckily, Joe had returned with the water, and Bill used it to trickle drops of the cool liquid on the back of Sam’s neck.

“I remember…” Sam gasped out. He shuddered and took the cup from Bill, swishing his mouth with the water before spitting it into the bucket. “Oh God, I remember the accident...”

“I’m so sorry, Sam…” The insurance reports had yet to come in, but Bill had talked with the police in Denver. While seat belt failure was common, the man who ran into them was at fault. Bill planned on handling all that himself; Sam didn't need the stress.

“It was my fault.” Sam stood on wobbly legs, stepping around the bucket, which Joe quickly picked up and took outside. Bill couldn’t blame him for finding an excuse to leave as Sam added, “I almost got us both killed!”

Bill shook his head. “No! I won’t let you do this to yourself. This was an _accident._ We were hit from behind because someone else was careless. I see this all the time because of my job.”

“Then-Then why were we in Denver in the first place? And-And what does it have to do with what we did after the wedding?”

Bill watched as Sam began to pace, casting glances every so often at his car. Sam had remembered the accident, and now he was agitated. Well, who wouldn’t be? It hadn’t exactly been a pleasant experience!

He tried to think of what he could say or do to help comfort Sam, when it hit him. Of course! That _had_ to be it! And it fit all the criteria that Doctor Griffin had laid out for him.

And, well, if it didn’t… Screw him!

“I’ll be right back, OK Sam?” he said.

Sam paused his pacing. “What? Where are you going?” he asked, his eyes going round in surprise.

“Just out to the truck. I have to go get something,” he explained.

“Get what?” Sam’s voice was laced with worry.

Bill lowered his hands. “Sam, I’ll be right back. I promise.”

“Can I go with you?”

“I’d feel better if you sat back down. You look a little pale, Sam,” Bill replied.

Sam sighed and went and sat back down. “I am still a little shaky.” He took a few more sips of the cup of water he still held in his hand. “Alright. I’m just… Alright.”

“Baby.” Bill leaned over and held Sam’s face in his hands. “You’re not alone, OK? I’m with you.”

“Just to the truck and back?” Sam asked.

“Right there and back,” Bill confirmed. “I’m getting something...for you. To help you, OK?”

Sam nodded, closing his eyes at Bill’s gentle kiss. “I love you, Bill.”

“Love you too. Remember, I’m with you.”

* * *

Sam closed his eyes as Bill’s footsteps faded away, hoping that whatever his boyfriend was getting would indeed help. He didn’t feel too hot.

“I’m with you,” Sam whispered.

* * *

_**He must’ve blacked out. His head hurt like a bitch. He tried to move, but fuck! His chest hurt, too.** _

_**He opened his eyes, but had to close his left one right away. Something was dripping into it, making it sting. What was it? Something else was dripping, warm and wet, down his forehead. Blood. It had to be blood. Maybe that was what was getting in his eye.** _

_**Glass was everywhere, the windshield was a cobweb of cracks. He smelled and tasted vomit. Oh great, he’d thrown up. Lovely. Well, not like it mattered; his car was demolished anyway.** _

_**Sam moved his eye to the passenger seat, stifling a cry at his boyfriend’s slumped over form. “Bill?” he rasped out and coughed. Ow! It hurt to breathe! “Bill?” he said a bit louder. Was he alive? “BILL! BILL!” he cried desperately, ignoring the pain in his chest.** _

_**Bill slowly lifted his head, and Sam sobbed. “Bill, oh thank God…” He trailed off as he got a better look at him. Bill’s right arm was trapped between the seat and door. Was it broken?** _

_**“Sam?”** _

_**“Don’t move too much. That’s what they say, right?” Sam bit his lip. Don’t they also say not to talk too much either, too? Because OW!** _

_**“Not trying to,” Bill replied. He looked about with his eyes for a moment before they landed on Sam. “Don’t you dare move either.”** _

_**“So bossy,” Sam said, trying to smile. He whimpered as small shards of glass dug into his cheek.** _

_**Bill’s features softened. “Shh, baby. Help will be here soon. I promise.”** _

_**Sam almost nodded, but stopped. “I know.” He closed his eye and took a shallow breath. It was getting difficult to concentrate. “Bill… I...I still want to, ya know…”** _

_**“Sam?” Bill’s voice called out urgently. “Stay awake, Sam. Stay with me.”** _

_**“I’m with you,” Sam mumbled, opening his eye. “I’m with you.”** _

_**“And I’m with you, baby. Hear that?” Sirens blared in the distance. “Help’s almost here.”** _

_**“Still want to, Bill…” He just couldn’t fight it anymore.** _

_**“Sam!” Everything was getting darker, fainter. “I want to, too! But please don’t fall asleep! SAM!!!”** _

* * *

Bill opened the truck’s tool box, finding the emergency roadside kit and pulling it out. He unzipped it, rummaging around the various items until he located what he’d hidden there weeks ago. He held the small object in his hand, hoping he really was making the right decision.

“Sam,” he said softly.

He dumped the kit back into the toolbox, hopping over the side of the truck’s bed to the ground. He ran back inside the shop and straight to the garage, skidding to a halt at its entrance.

Sam was right where he had left him, and Bill jogged over, the object firmly in his hand. He stopped in front of Sam and held it out to him. “This,” he said, panting slightly. “This is why we were in Denver.”

“A box?” Sam placed his cup on the ground and took the object from him, turning it over in his hands. It was just a small, plain wooden box, made of polished oak. There was a brass latch, though. “Is there something inside?”

Bill smiled. “Why don’t you see?”

“Heh.” Sam flipped open the latch with his thumb.

* * *

_The little raindrops of fragmented memories in his mind increased rapidly, condensing and condensing. The droplets grew larger, until they had no choice but to merge with the ones next to them. They soon grew so heavy that they fell from the cloud they’d been trapped in, and the empty spaces in his mind vanished._

_He no longer had any missing pieces; the puzzle was whole._

_The once lost memories swirled in his mind, and within each of them, one person was prominent:_

_Bill._

_Bill showing him around town… Helping him settle into his apartment… Introducing him to all of Jericho’s residents, even if Sam had met them already… The Friday nights out with him and Stanley… The many, many dates… Their first time making out in Bill’s truck… The day they both walked into the clinic together to get tested and a week later how they “celebrated” when the results arrived… Sam’s horror the first time Bill was hurt on duty… Bill’s consternation over Sam’s whiny behavior whenever he got sick… Bill holding him when he was sad… Sam comforting Bill… Supporting each other… Forgiving each other…_

_Loving each other..._

_Needing each other._

_Forever._

_Bill..._

_Bill was his future…_

* * *

Sam nearly dropped the box at the flood of memories. He had them all! Every single one! He was complete again!

“Hey, careful! Don’t want to lose those!” Bill said. Sam looked into Bill’s eyes. “Been holding on to those for a good while now.”

“I’m glad you did. We spent forever picking them out.” Sam’s eyes pricked with tears at the slight tremble of Bill’s lips. “The salesperson got annoyed at me, remember?”

Bill slowly knelt before him. “Sam, have you…” He swallowed. “D-Do you…” He clutched one of Sam’s hands tightly.

“Yes,” Sam answered, his heart leaping in joy.

Bill stood, pulling Sam to his feet. “It’s back?” he asked, searching Sam’s face. “All of it?”

“One hundred percent,” Sam assured him. He lifted the box between them. “And, just so you know…” He lifted the latch once more to reveal the two gold bands. “I still want to.”

Bill took Sam’s face in his hands and kissed him deeply. “I haven’t stopped wanting to.” He then gripped him in a tremendous bear hug, lifting Sam completely off the floor and spinning him in a circle. “I wouldn’t have said yes when you asked me!” he laughed.

Sam had thankfully snapped the box closed and held on to it while being swept around. He joined in his _fiancé’s_ laughter, so happy that his—their—world was right again. “I remember us, Bill.” Tears spilled from his eyes. “I remember us…”

Bill captured his lips. “I love you, Sam. I-I…” He hugged Sam tight. “I don’t have words, baby…”

“I love you, too. Take me home, Bill,” Sam whispered. “I want to start making plans to go back to Denver.”

“You sure that’s all you want to do?” Bill said knowingly.

Sam laughed. “Well, that was gonna be _after—_ ”

“I knew it.”


	8. Epilogue

They’d wanted to get married in Jericho, surrounded by Bill’s family and their friends. Unfortunately, Kansas and its backwards way of thinking didn’t allow for that.

So, Colorado it was.

Which was OK, because it also had the nearest airport, and Bill had plans for after their visit to the justice of the peace anyway.

Sam wanted them to dress nicely for the occasion, donning a pair of black dress pants, a coral striped button-up, and a black tie. Bill opted for a navy blue button-down, khakis, and matching dress jacket, which he planned to hang behind the seat of the truck for the drive to Colorado.

All in all, they made quite a pair.

Since Sam’s beloved Barracuda was still “in car ICU”—Bill had raised an eyebrow at that while Sam had just given him an impish grin in return—they loaded up Bill’s truck with their suitcases, left Cheeto in the Taylor’s care, and left for Denver on a Friday. Bill had been planning everything out, wanting to make the next week special for the man he loved.

Which, of course, meant that he had had to keep all his plans secret from Sam.

“Come on, Bill! Today’s the day! You can tell me at least _one_ thing!” Sam was bouncing around in his seat, having drunk three cups of coffee before they’d left at noon. He’d apparently had trouble sleeping the night before because he’d been so excited, and was wanting to stay awake for the entire trip. Bill knew that they’d be stopping for at least one bathroom break before they got to Denver because of his fiancé’s antics. “I’ve been good! I haven’t asked about anything in _three_ days!”

Bill pursed his lips, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “I’m not sure if that’s long enough…”

“Ugh! You and your surprise fetish, I swear!” Sam pouted. Bill laughed, and Sam stuck out his tongue. “You’re lucky I love you!”

“Yeah, I am lucky, aren’t I?” Bill held out his right hand towards Sam, who sighed and threaded their fingers together.

“You know ya gotta tell me today whether you want to or not,” Sam said smugly.

Bill squeezed his hand. “There’s nothing I don’t ever want to tell you.”

* * *

After they paid for their marriage license—which had been a very surreal experience for them both—they were directed to the chambers of Judge Campbell. They both took deep breaths before entering, then shared a look that spoke volumes.

Yes, they both still wanted this.

And yes, they were still what the other wanted.

Forever.

They hadn’t planned on saying their own vows, but when the judge paused and asked, Sam started to speak.

“Bill, I want to thank you for coming into my life and for filling in my empty heart.” Bill’s eyes brimmed with emotion. “I was so lonely, so broken, so not myself. But you...you found me, put me back together again.” Sam smiled, tears coursing down his face. “And you make sure I stay together.”

Bill’s hands tightened around his as Sam continued. “You’ve never left my side, no matter what. I know that we can definitely make it through whatever life decides to throw at us from now on—you’re stubborn, and I’m, well, I’m crazy enough to try anything.” He laughed wetly. “I love you so much, Bill.”

Judge Campbell turned expectantly to Bill, but Bill was staring in wonder at Sam.

“Mr. Koehler?” the judge prompted.

“Huh? Oh!” Bill pressed his lips together nervously, and Sam brought one of his soon-to-be husband’s hands to his lips and kissed the knuckles softly. Bill gave him a grateful look in response.

“When you’re ready,” Judge Campbell said kindly.

Bill held Sam’s gaze. “When you cry, I promise to wipe your tears. When you’re scared, I promise to hold your hand. When you laugh, I promise to laugh with you. When you hurt, I will take the pain and make it mine.”

Sam had a fresh wave of tears falling from his eyes, and Bill joined him. The love he felt for Sam was so strong. “You are the love of my life, Sam Dobbs. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, or what makes me worthy of you, but I’m never letting you go. It’s you and me. I mean to love you forever.”

“You’re damn right it’s you and me,” Sam choked out. “We’re stuck together!”

Bill chuckled, then had to sniff. “This is supposed to be serious, Sam!”

“Who says I’m not!”

Judge Campbell intervened, and they exchanged the rings they had bought nearly two months prior. The solid gold bands fit perfectly, and Sam made plans to have them inscribed later.

Finally, the judge announced, “By the power invested in me by the state of Colorado, I now pronounce you married.” He gestured between them, then turned to sign the marriage certificate.

Bill went to take Sam in his arms, but nearly fell over backwards when his husband embraced him instead, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Bill closed his eyes, sliding his arms around Sam, returning the kiss, his heart bursting with happiness.

Sam pulled back. “We did it!” His face was flushed, eyes dancing with joy.

“Sure did,” Bill replied.

They turned to receive their license from the judge, then thanked him before exiting the room.

“So, gonna tell me what’s up now, _hubby?_ ” Sam said, slipping his arm around Bill’s waist.

Bill made a face. “What did you call me?”

“I gotta call you _something…_ ” Sam removed his tie from around his neck, stuffing it in a pants pocket.

“Not _that._ ”

“Fine, _husband,_ ” Sam huffed with a smile. “Where to next?”

Bill halted in the hallway and smirked. “Well, it involves finding some corners…”

* * *

Late that afternoon, they flew from Denver to Grand Junction. Much to Sam’s frustration, Bill still remained tight-lipped about where they were going, and he mulled over the one clue that he had been given. Finding corners could mean practically anything, and he would’ve pondered on it more if the flight had lasted more than thirty minutes.

After landing at the airport, they rented an SUV and headed out onto the highway. It was a little over an hour’s drive to their destination in Moab, Utah, and Sam complained of being hungry when they were barely outside the city. They stopped at a Mexican restaurant, because if there was one thing that filled Sam up fast, it was tacos.

During their meal, Sam prodded Bill for more information, but it was futile; Bill just wouldn’t budge. Sam finally just decided to leave it alone—for now at least—and casually asked, “So... What do we call ourselves now?”

“What do you mean?” He began preparing another steak fajita.

Sam swallowed the bite of taco he had in his mouth. “Well, we’re married now. There’s this thing called last names.”

Bill dropped his fork. He’d completely forgotten about that part. “Umm, I’m fine with whatever you want to do.” He cleared his throat. “I mean, if you want to hyphenate or whatever…”

“But wouldn’t that be weird, though? ‘Koehler-Dobbs’ _definitely_ sounds weird.” Sam wrinkled his nose. “And ‘Dobbs-Koehler’ sounds just as bad.”

“Well ‘Bill Dobbs’ sounds like a politician’s name,” Bill said, frowning at his plate. He looked up when Sam lifted his glass.

“I guess that settles it,” his husband said. He raised an eyebrow, glancing down pointedly at Bill’s own glass then back up to Bill. Though he was confused, Bill quickly took it in hand. “To the Koehlers!” Sam announced proudly.

Smiling so wide it hurt, Bill followed suit. “To the Koehlers!”

They clinked their drinks together, their first decision as a married couple in the books.

* * *

“Well damn, Bill. This is certainly… Wow!”

They were going to honeymoon at a lodge that was situated right along the Colorado River. They would be able to go horseback riding and whitewater rafting, and there were national parks nearby as well. It was an amazing place!

Bill had outdone himself.

Their room had a private, furnished deck with a view of the river. Sam had dumped his suitcase on the king-sized bed and walked across the floor to look out the glass sliding door. It was a gorgeous view!

“Thanks for not telling me,” he breathed. “I love it.”

Bill opened the latch to the door. “Let’s take a closer look,” he suggested. They went out onto the deck, a cool breeze off the water hitting their skin. Sam stood at the rail, closing his eyes, relishing the fresh air and the last warmth of the evening sun.

“Happy?” Bill whispered, wrapping his arms around Sam’s waist and nuzzling his ear.

“Very happy,” Sam said, leaning his head back against his lover’s shoulder. “I have a question, though.”

Bill kissed down Sam’s neck, making him shiver. “Hmm?”

“What exactly does a lodge in the middle of nowhere have to do with corners?”

“Can I tell you later, after I make love to you?” Bill began to deftly unbutton Sam’s shirt. “I’ve got other things on my mind.”

Sam started to laugh, but moaned when Bill pinched his nipple. “Y-You wanting to consummate our marriage, are you?” he panted. He pushed back against Bill, biting his lip when he felt his husband’s erection against his ass.

Bill stepped back, stripping his clothes off, tossing them aside carelessly. Sam shucked his pants, kicking them off his feet along with his shoes. He was in the process of tugging down his boxer briefs when he was pulled back against Bill once more.

“No… I want to touch you this way,” Bill groaned. He ran his hands up and down Sam’s chest, the shirt fluttering slightly in the breeze. Sam shuddered, breathing in and out faster with each touch. “Want you to remember tonight, baby.”

“Bill…” Sam closed his eyes. How could he _not_ remember? Ever since he regained his memories, he’d made a point of paying close attention to intimate moments like this with Bill. He cherished them. “Bill, please…”

Bill dipped his fingers below the hemline of Sam’s underwear, and Sam turned his face towards Bill. They crashed their mouths together, Bill sliding his hand down through Sam’s pubic hair to grasp his husband’s cock. Sam cried out against Bill’s mouth, raising a hand up behind himself to fist it into his lover’s hair.

They moved against the other, Sam pushing his hips up into Bill’s hand, Bill rutting against Sam’s ass. Sam opened his lips to Bill’s, and they tasted the other’s kiss, lost within each other.

Unfortunately, oxygen required them to break the kiss, and Sam pulled away, gasping Bill’s name. He was on edge, needing more. Wanting the rest of these damn clothes off…

“Inside, Bill…” he whined, moving his hips harder.

“Inside where?” Bill whispered.

“Me. Bed,” Sam gasped. He couldn’t form a whole sentence.

Bill gave Sam’s cock one last, firm stroke before removing his hand. “Let’s go then.”

Sam’s shirt and boxer briefs became one with the deck, and he followed Bill inside. Bill found their lube, and soon Sam was on his back, spreading his legs while Bill circled a wet finger languidly around his hole. He knew his lover was going to take his time opening him up tonight, and Sam’s heart sped up in his chest.

“Someone’s still a little loose from last night,” Bill said casually, skimming the tip of his finger along the edge of Sam’s rim. “I must’ve done a good job.”

“Mmm…” Sam’s thighs shook. Bill had folded him almost in half and made him scream nearly every other night since his memories returned. He had been doing a hell of a job! “ _So good…_ ”

Bill pushed his finger deep inside, biting his lip at how his lover’s hole easily took it. He bent his head and kissed Sam’s perineum, inhaling the scent of his skin, tasting the sweat that had broken out from his ministrations. “ _You’re_ so good, baby.”

Sam’s hand tangled in Bill’s hair. “Please, Bill, please.” He cried out as Bill answered his plea, his husband flattening his tongue and licking up to his balls and then to his cock to suckle at its base. At the same time, he began to thrust his finger slowly in and out of his hole, and the wet sounds had his cock leaking drops of precum.

Bill closed his eyes. Sam was mewling his name, tugging at his hair. His own cock was trapped between his stomach and the bed, and he moved his hips, seeking stimulation. He could make love to Sam for hours and hours, hold off on coming for as long as he needed to make sure that Sam received every ounce of pleasure that he could give him. He’d never been able to do that with anyone else. That’s how he knew that Sam was the one, that Sam was the one who completed him.

Sam felt a second finger enter his hole just as Bill raised his head and swallowed him down. Oh! He wasn’t sure where Bill had learned how to take a person apart so deliciously, but he was so glad that he got to benefit from it, and would continue to do so. He had the ring—and the last name!—that said he could. And...HOLY HELL! Bill’s tongue when he dipped it into his cock’s slit…

He made plans then and there to return the favor as soon as possible.

A third and fourth finger were soon twisting within Sam and rubbing against his prostate, making his precum drip from his cock. Bill lapped it up greedily, keeping his and his husband’s gazes locked. Their arousal for one another was stronger than ever, their pupils blown with lust.

Sam pushed back against Bill’s hand. “Mmm… Bill… Oooo….”

Bill cupped Sam’s balls, rolling them in his fingers, thumb pressing against his taint. “I know…”

“Hurry, Bill, I want you…” Sam begged. He tossed his head back when Bill thrust his fingers as deep as they would go. “I’m going crazy!”

“Sam...” Bill groaned out. He was on his knees, his thick, heavy cock straining against his belly and _needing_ to be deep inside of his husband _now._ He then took a deep, steadying breath. _It’s your wedding night, Bill,_ he reminded himself. _Nice and slow, remember?_ “OK, baby…”

Removing his fingers, Bill ran them slowly around the outside of Sam’s rim, knowing it drove his lover wild. Sam spread his legs even wider, his cock twitching at the touch. “Bill, please…”

Bill slicked up his cock and notched it at Sam’s entrance. “I love you, Mr. Koehler,” he whispered, staring into Sam’s beautiful amber eyes as he pressed forward. He paused when he was halfway in, groaning at the heat and tightness that enveloped him. He thrust shallowly, Sam’s cries filling the room, until he was buried to the hilt.

Sam lifted his arms and legs, folding them around his husband, drawing him down until their bodies pressed together. They lay still for a moment, their hearts beating against each other, their faces inches apart.

“I love you too, Mr. Koehler,” Sam sighed. “And oh my God that’s cheesy as hell to say—Oh... Ohhhh... _Ohhhh…!_ ”

“Mmm..hmm...” Bill had set up a lazy, smooth rhythm of deep thrusts, sliding their chests together with each roll of his hips. He thrilled in the sharp gasps and moans from the man in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut from Sam hooking his ankles around his waist and digging his fingers into his back. And Oh! Sam felt so hot around his cock, his walls gripping him so perfectly. He could definitely go at this pace all night.

But Sam needed more. He lifted his hips up into Bill’s thrusts, seeking a better angle. Bill moved slightly to accommodate him, and— _There! Oh, yes!_ Sam began to shout, attempted to arch his back, but couldn’t because of Bill’s weight on top of him. But he didn’t fight it; he adored making love to Bill this way.

Sam’s voice began to grow hoarse as they went on and on. Sweat dampened their skin and the thin blanket on the bed. The smell of sex filled the room. The two lovers both reveled in it and strained their bodies against one another. It had never felt so damn good, and they wanted to keep feeling this way.

As time went on, they switched positions. Sam rode Bill, bouncing upon his husband’s cock lustily while he leaned over and worshipped his lips. On his hands and knees with Bill slamming into him from behind, holding on to his hips tightly and slapping their wet skin together obscenely. Against the wall of the room, Bill’s muscular stature more than enough to hold his husband up as he slammed into Sam over and over.

They were back on the bed, Sam’s legs thrown over Bill’s shoulders when they reached their peak. The sun was rising over the red cliffs that surrounded the Colorado River, and the first rays of dawn landed on Sam’s face as his orgasm raced through his body. Thick, white strands of his release painted his stomach and chest as he screamed his love for Bill, and his hands clenched at the blanket beneath him.

Bill kept pumping his cock rapidly in and out of Sam’s spasming hole, determined to prolong his lover’s orgasm. But Sam had come _hard_ and Bill just couldn’t fight it. Giving in, he thrust in balls deep, groaning as he came, flooding his husband’s channel full.

Warm, sweat-slick arms reached for him, and Bill gently lowered Sam’s shaky legs from his shoulders. He allowed himself to be pulled down into Sam’s embrace and they cuddled through their afterglow, kissing one another tenderly and murmuring words of love and affection.

* * *

A short while later, after taking a much-needed shower and opening the doors to the deck to air out the room, Bill made an awkward phone call for clean bedding. Sam answered their room’s door in a bathrobe and got a knowing look from the housekeeping staff, making Bill want to hide and Sam snicker. The couple then climbed into bed, lying in its middle and holding their left hands up side-by-side, their gold wedding bands gleaming in the morning sunlight.

“We’re married,” Sam whispered.

“Yes, we are,” Bill replied.

Sam turned his head. “You said you hid our rings because you wouldn’t have been able to stop yourself from telling me about our engagement. What would you have done if I never remembered asking you to marry me? Or the car crash?”

Bill pressed his lips together, then rolled to his side to look down at Sam. “I would’ve either told you eventually, or asked you to marry me myself, _then_ told you.” He placed his hand on Sam’s chest as he leaned over and pressed their lips together. “Either way, we would’ve ended up here—at least, I hope so.”

“I think we would have.” Sam pulled Bill down for another kiss, this one deeper and longer. “Umm,” he said when it ended. “Do we _have_ to go to sleep now?”

“Aren’t you tired?” Bill gave him an incredulous look. “We’ve been awake for nearly twenty-four hours. Well, _I_ have; _you_ got a short nap on the drive here after we ate.”

Sam booped him on the nose. “I promise to let you nap all you want later. It’s just that…”

Bill raised a suspicious eyebrow. “What?”

“The lodge’s restaurant has a breakfast buffet!”

* * *

Early that afternoon, Bill awoke to Sam’s hot mouth on his cock, and the two enjoyed a _very_ delightful couple of hours making each other moan and groan the other’s name. They’d planned on perhaps taking a horse ride before dinner, but were so sated from their actions that they ended up falling asleep once again.

They just couldn’t stop expressing their love for one another.

That night, out on the deck, they sat naked together on one of the chairs, Sam curled up in Bill’s lap. They watched the moonlight shine on the river, listened to the water flow by and the other various sounds of the desert night. It was peaceful, and they played with each other’s hands, shared sweet and gentle kisses, and were just happy to be with each other.

“Bill?” Sam asked, tracing one of his husband’s pectoral muscles with a finger. “You never told me what ‘corners’ meant.”

Deep laughter rumbled in Bill’s chest. “You’re not gonna give up on finding out, are you?” Bill caressed Sam’s thigh with an open palm. “It’s not far from here.”

Sam waited for more, but Bill kept moving his hand along his skin. “And?”

“You’ll see then,” Bill replied.

“Hmph!” Sam poked Bill’s chest. “You’re a mean spouse.”

Bill hugged him tightly. “And you’re an impatient one.” He turned Sam in his lap until his husband straddled him. “Wanna see if we can break this chair?”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “They’d charge us a ton to replace it...”

“It would be worth it.” Bill caressed Sam’s hips for emphasis.

“Mmm, let me run inside and grab what we need…”

* * *

The couple spent the next two days enjoying the activities offered by the lodge. They toured the rugged ride trails in the area on cowboy-trained quarter horses, their trail guides regaling them with tales of how John Wayne rode the same trails himself. There was an entire day of whitewater rafting, both getting completely soaked in the waters of the Colorado, followed by a riverside picnic and a chance to dry off.

They were both having a wonderful time, and Bill couldn’t wait to top it off with his BIG surprise…

* * *

“What is this place?” Sam asked as Bill parked the SUV in front of an odd structure. There were nine flags, all positioned around what looked like a concrete disk of some sort. It was surrounded by large safety bollards, each connected by a black metal chain.

“Let’s go see,” Bill answered cryptically, though he smiled right after. Sam smirked at him but quickly exited the vehicle. They joined hands as they walked towards the disk, squinting against the brightness of the sun.

“That’s the U.S. flag, and those over there are state flags… Colorado, New Mexico…” Sam darted his eyes around to the others. “I think that’s Utah’s…”

Bill squeezed his hand. “Arizona’s, too. The other four flags represent the Navajo Nation and the Ute Mountain Ute Tribe.”

Sam peered over at his husband. “Someone’s done their homework,” he observed.

“Always do.”

They had to stop and pay before they could see...whatever it was...and Sam saw a sign: Four Corners Monument. Ahh, there was the “corners” connection. He and Bill then stepped through an opening between the bollards and onto the concrete disk, and Sam stopped and stared.

The disk itself was embedded with a smaller bronze disk around its point, surrounded by smaller, appropriately located state seals representing both the states and tribal nations of the area. The states’ and tribal nations’ flags were located near their corresponding seals. There were two lines running through the large concrete disk, indicating where the four corners of the states met.

“Four corners,” Sam whispered. He turned to face Bill. “You mean for us to kiss here, don’t you?”

“The look on your face tells me I was way off on what I was going for.” Bill smiled softly at Sam’s confused expression. “I guess I’m trying to say that it’s more romantic than cheesy.” He shrugged, and Sam grinned madly at his next words. “So, how about it? Wanna kiss in four places at once, babe?”

Sam snatched Bill’s hands and dragged him to stand right where the lines crossed, wrapping his arms around his husband’s neck. “No, it’s _exactly_ what you were going for! It’s absolutely perfect!” He stared into the gorgeous, tawny eyes he adored. “Kiss me, Bill!”

Bill slid his hands up Sam’s back. “I love you, Sam.”

“I love you, Bill. Forever.”

Sam’s heart bloomed with undying love when their lips met, and by the way Bill held him tightly, he knew that his husband was feeling the same way. They were as one, and nothing would ever break them apart.

The only unknown they had to worry about now was the future.

And he and Bill would face it together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad to see this little story end. Sam and Bill became dear to me. The Dickmas exchange was wonderful, and I'm hoping there's another next year.
> 
> (and I hope you enjoyed how it ended too, WarlockWriter <3 )
> 
> ********
> 
> Even though I'd LOVE to take credit for their wedding vows, I'm sadly not that poetic. I had to research vows for a good while until I found some floating around that "fit" Sam and Bill perfectly (at least, I hope it comes across that way).


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